Paint The Roses Red
by PoppyParanoia
Summary: When something happens that shatters Ryou's life as he knows it, he begins to remember and realize things about himself that he thought he'd forgotten so long ago. Old passions, inspirations, friends, family... and love. Tendershipping. R&R.
1. Prologue: Off With His Head

**AN**: My new chapter story. I originally had a whole other short story planned out to post, but then I was talking with one of my reviewers online (xxfangirlx - check out her fics. DO IT!) and she inspired me to start this new story up.

It's AU. Some characters will be a tad OOC on purpose.

It has some controversial themes. Tendershipping, obviously, but this story's also going to be deep. Confusing, maybe, at times. Emotional. Dramatic. As the plot moves on, you will see more of what I mean.

Also, if you haven't noticed, the story title and all the chapter titles are/will be from _Alice in Wonderland_.

And finally -

I hope you enjoy =)

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><p><strong>PAINT THE ROSES RED<strong>

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><p><em>Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Yu-Gi-Oh!. <em>

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><p><strong>Prologue: off with his head<strong>

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><p>He knows that The Smashing Pumpkins was playing through the speakers in the bar earlier that night.<p>

Neon lights flashed and bodies crashed together. Girls and boys flirted without fear. His friends were all off somewhere dancing or drinking the night away. The atmosphere buzzed with heat, passion, "fun"…

…And "1979" by The Smashing Pumpkins reverberated around the bar.

The booth wasn't that comfortable. He had been sitting on it for the past twenty-five minutes, fingering the cool, slightly moist glass resting between his hands on the slick, glittery table in front of him.

He brought the drink up to his lips, and the burning sensation of alcohol buzzed through his body and tore him apart.

He kind of wondered if the whole "partying" thing would _ever _get old.

Another person slid onto the maroon booth next to him. The leather squeaked.

"_Hey _Ryou!"

He had given Yugi a small, weak smile. (He, quite frankly, wasn't really sober enough to do much more than that.)

"Why are you sitting all by yourself?" the other boy asked, blinking wildly with his bizarre purple eyes, his words slurred and obnoxious.

Ryou shrugged half-heartedly.

"Got bored. Everyone else is still out there, though?"

He turned his gaze onto the flashing dance floor covered in God knows how many bodies moving to the beat. His tall, brunette friend Tristan came into view as he danced alongside who Ryou _thought _was Joey's sister Serenity. (Once again, not only was it kind of dim in the club, but he wasn't totally sober enough to _see_ straight.)

The last time he actually _spoken_ with anyone was when they first arrived at the club. Since they walked through the front door, he was off on the dance floor and he was left alone.

He took another swig of the drink in his hand.

Yugi sighed. "Well, I'm gonna head on back. But come back out and dance some more soon!"

Then his other friend was off and he was alone once again.

Slowly, so slowly, he rested his forehead onto the cool table and let his head pound and pound.

For the past year of his life, his life was _this_. It consisted of partying. Countless clubs. Alcohol. Going to parties, being social for a while, and then retiring to the table and swigging down a couple beers. Then, finally, wallowing in his misery and pounding headache after the initial "partying-high" wore off.

He closed his eyes, his head still rested on the table's edge.

There were faint memories at the back of his mind of someone everybody called their _friend_.

Someone everybody looked to for a shining gem of wisdom in dark situations.

Someone everybody admired for being humble, quiet, and unique.

Someone everybody awed at because he read _far_ too much and liked to draw dazzling, haunting pictures.

Someone everybody called "beautiful."

Someone everybody knew _never _drank.

Someone everybody knew was just trying to stay true to himself, but couldn't.

Those memories weren't as easy to see anymore, but he knew they were there.

_Especially_ in that moment.

Because in that moment, he saw a lot of them. (He's not sure exactly _why_ he let his mind wander to memories at that time, but he knows that it _did_, and once it _had_, he couldn't stop it.)

He saw the "someone" he used to be; the one he has no idea how he _lost_.

He felt the longing for the joy and contentment that he once felt so strongly.

And then, of course, there were the memories of a _certain_ dark eyed, white-haired, sarcastic, bitter person that made his heart _soar,_ and somehow made _everything _better no matter _what_ the situation.

The one person that he wished he could be with right at that moment.

* * *

><p>"Are you going to come home with me?"<p>

As if the universe could read his mind, the voice he knew oh-so-well echoed through his ears and he slowly, groggily looked up.

Bakura stood there, dressed neatly in dark black jeans, a grey shirt, and a black jacket. The bright lights illuminated his face, and a small frown was plastered onto his features. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but Ryou could still hear the jingling of car keys as Bakura messed with them mindlessly.

His mouth opened a little bit.

It was _really_ dry.

"Ryou?" Bakura had prompted, sounding annoyed. (If Ryou were to have been looking, he would have seen Bakura glare just a _teeny _bit.)

He plopped his head back down on the table and mumbled out,

"I didn't know you were here."

Bakura frowned.

"I just got here. Came in to check things out, looked around, and decided to leave. Now do you want to come home with me or not?" Bakura replied, shifting his body weight from one foot to another.

He closed his eyes.

"Everyone else is still—"

Bakura scoffed. "They already said it was fine if you went home with me. Said they wanted to stay a little longer, and you were just being a `stick in the mud'."

He felt a sharp stab of hurt at the words from his friends.

But what was the point of staying? He would just sit on the leather, sweaty, maroon booth and chug down some more alcohol until hours later at 4AM when his friends decided they were done "having a good time".

And besides, the one person he was _just _wishing he could see was offering him the ride.

The Smashing Pumpkins were still playing through the speakers.

Slowly, he looked up. He swallowed.

"Can we wait until the end of this song?"

* * *

><p>"I'm driving."<p>

"But I'm not drunk, Bakura."

A bitter, sarcastic laugh.

"Yeah, _right_."

Ryou didn't protest as he was practically pushed into the passenger's seat, buckled up, and had his door slammed for him.

He _did _protest, however, when Bakura refused to turn on the radio.

"Bakura, I want _music_!" he cried.

Bakura continued driving, frowning, and not looking at Ryou.

"The _last _thing you need is more noise to aggravate the already killer headache you probably have," he murmured, and Ryou surprisingly didn't argue. (Probably because he really _did _have a headache.)

Soon, the flashing, bright lights of the downtown clubs and restaurants faded away as the two drove farther away from the bar and closer to their suburban neighborhood.

At first it was all uncomfortable silence.

Ryou watched Bakura in the faintly moonlit light of the car. (He looked really rather beautiful, Ryou remembers.)

"I'm sorry."

Ryou didn't notice it, but Bakura's hands tightened on the steering wheel after the words came out of his lips.

"What for?" Bakura said, narrowing his eyes a little bit at the headlight-lit road in front of them.

Ryou turned to look in front of him.

"I don't know. You tell me. You're the one that's pissed off."

And then all of a sudden, as if _all _the frustration and inner agony he had been feeling for the past year and a half let loose, Bakura snapped.

"_Ryou_," he cried. His hands were pounded once on the top of the steering wheel. "Oh my _God_. Just _listen _to yourself! Your words are slurred. You have no idea what you're _talking_ about. You're so _wasted_!"

Ryou frowned.

"_So_?"

There was a heavy, furious, _heartbreaking_ silence for a moment. Then, Bakura threw a disgusted look at his companion and shook his head.

"You aren't _Ryou_ anymore! You're not the amazing, genius, determined, quiet Ryou I once knew! You meant _everything _to me. _Every day _I woke up _you_ were the first thing I looked forward to._You _were the first thing I thought of. _You_ were the one I admired. The one I wanted to be like. I _loved _you."

There was a silence.

Ryou's head felt like it was spinning more than it was before back at the club.

Bakura carried on, ignoring the silence.

"Now? _Now _you're just a hypocritical, cliche, cynical _drunkard_ who likes to _pretend _he's happy and knows what he's doing!" Bakura cried, and Ryou slouched a little bit in his seat.

Even in his inebriated state, he perfectly understood every word Bakura shouted at him.

And those words _hurt_.

"I told you, I'm sorry," is all Ryou whispered, (it was all he could think to say) and then a mocking, hateful laugh resonated throughout the car.

"`Sorry' doesn't cut it, Ryou," Bakura had said, and then _Ryou_ snapped.

"Well what in God's name do you want me to _do_, Bakura? Huh? _Huh_?" he suddenly found himself screaming, too, because _why _did Bakura decide in _this _rather uncomfortable (he was drunk and felt like throwing up—a lot) moment to start screeching at him about how much he's "changed" or how "horrible" he now is?

Then, it happened. (Though he's not really sure _how_.)

"**_Ryou_**!"

Headlights meeting headlights.

Screeching.

Horns blaring.

Metal crashing.

Glass exploding.

Drunken terror.

Confused agony.

_Bakura_.

Now, Ryou is sprawled out on the floor of Bakura's car.

He can't feel his body. He thinks that his head is bleeding and he tastes blood. His vision is kind of blurry. He inhales shaky, painful breaths. There are shards of gleaming glass all around. Even at his point of view, he can see the horrible damage to the vehicle. He knows he's probably going to die.

His head is _still_ pounding

But all he's focused on is that one form in the driver's seat.

The one crumbled, bleeding, _beautiful _form in the driver's seat.

Bakura's head is bent limp off of the side of the head rest. His arm is dangling. His face is pale as Death and is splattered with blood.

His gorgeous brown eyes are closed.

And Ryou feels like crying because he knows that Bakura is dead.


	2. Curiouser & Curiouser

**AN: **Hopefully this doesn't get too confusing. Hopefully all should be revealed as you read on xD

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><p><strong>PAINT THE ROSES RED<strong>

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><p><em>Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Yu-Gi-Oh!. <em>

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><p><em>one: curiouser &amp; curiouser<em>

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><p>There's a soft breeze on his face and it smells like autumn.<p>

He remembers that he considers his favorite season autumn.

Winter was just a _bit _too nippy and chilly for him. (Though he _does _love snow.) Summer was _far_ too hot. Spring was just…nothing extra special to him, despite the fact that everyone _else_ seems to think it's a "rebirth" that should be celebrated and loved.

But autumn…

One of Ryou's absolute favorite things was to take a stroll during autumn.

There's this road near his house that he remembers walking down quite a bit. It was cobblestone; it led to the community park. He and his mother would go there almost every day after school when he was a child to play there during _every _season, and Ryou remembers loving how the tall, prestigious trees alongside the walkway towered over and shadowed them carefully as they sauntered by.

As he got older (starting around ten years old), Ryou would sometimes just go back to that cobblestone pathway and walk to the park by himself. It brought back good memories of him and his Mother (Good memories of her were what he needed, because his mother had passed away at that point, so good memories were _quite_ rare.), and Ryou liked how it was always so peacefully quiet and he could just _think_.

He would go there several times during each season and just walk and wonder. No one ever really found out about it. No one ever came and walked with him.

And Ryou remembers that his absolute _favorite_ times to walk on that path were during autumn.

During autumn, the towering trees were colored with crimson red, chocolate brown, bright yellow, and pumpkin orange leaves, and the wind was cool but not cold, gently pushing away the dry, suffocating heat of summer that he hated so much. The air was thick with a lovely scent he could only describe as "The Approach of Fall", and everything just seemed to be quieting down.

Ryou adored it.

He felt so at peace with himself and the world during those autumn walks.

And now, quite a few years later, Ryou smells that "autumn" smell and feels that cool breeze, and he opens his eyes.

There they are.

Those giant, colorful oak trees are towering above him. Through their red, orange, brown, and yellow leaves streams dim autumn sunlight.

But the strange thing is, Ryou doesn't actually _remember _walking along the path. _And_, he doesn't remember actually _falling asleep_.

…He doesn't actually _remember _anything, really.

His memories of what happened before he awoke are just a foggy haze that he can't seem to break through all of a sudden.

But for some reason, he's not scared.

He just takes a deep inhale of that autumn air and looks around.

The pathway is exactly like he remembers it. A small breeze suddenly starts up, carries a few dead leaves across the cobblestone (causing an eerie, scratchy sort of noise), and twirls his open jacket. He pulls the fabric closer around his thin body as the chilliness hits him.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary.

Except, of course, for the fact that he has _no idea _how he got where he is and the fact that it's dead quiet.

_Eerily_ quiet.

Ryou suddenly shivers.

Quickly, he moves to get up before he realizes he's seated on a bench. It's a bench he remembers being on the side of the path, and sometimes he would sit there when he was younger and just look up at the sky and stare in awe at Nature.

Ryou licks his lips and vaguely wonders how he managed to fall asleep on that bench; he remembers that it was rather uncomfortable.

Soon, he's standing up (a bit shakily), and he begins carefully walking forward. The cobblestone gives a familiar _tap-tap _beneath his feet and he gets a sudden, overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

He misses his childhood days.

He misses the days when he was innocent and his life hadn't been corrupted.

Ryou closes his eyes, pauses in his sauntering, and he lifts his pale face to the incoming breeze.

He inhales again.

"Ryou."

Ryou flies around.

He blinks.

He _knows _that he is dreaming.

"M-mom…?"

Ryou's mother stands in front of her son, smiling softly, dressed in a nice sweater and a long blue skirt. Her hands are tucked in her sweater's pockets calmly. She looks healthy, happy. (Like how Ryou always tries to remember his Mother; he _hates _remembering her sick like she was the last few years of her life.)

"Hi, Ryou," his mother speaks gently, and her smile grows almost unnoticeably as her eyes sparkle.

Ryou feels his heart about to burst, and his stomach and chest feel heavy.

His brown eyes fill with tears.

"M-mom…" Ryou takes one step forward and holds out a hand. "W-why—how—?"

Suddenly, Ryou stops. He swallows loudly and heavily.

"You're dead."

His mother's happy, soft smile turns sad at her son's words.

"I know."

Ryou takes a shaky breath in. He looks down and clutches his arms around himself suddenly, desperate for _any _form of comfort.

This is _insane_.

His Mother died _years_ ago. Ryou hadn't set foot on the cobblestone pathway he was now on by his house for over _several_ months. It was _summertime, _not autumn.

This was not real.

Ryou concludes that he is dreaming.

He looks up, licks his lips, and allows a few tears to escape his eyes as he whispers out,

"I've missed you, mom."

Suddenly, she takes her hands out of her pockets and walks forward. Next thing he knows, Ryou is being engulfed by his Mother in an embrace.

Shivers bombard Ryou's body and he clenches his eyes shut and doesn't wrap his arms around his Mother in return because the hug feels _so real_, but Ryou knows it's _not_ and he's afraid that if he even so much as _thinks _about hugging his mother the woman will disappear and Ryou will start missing her desperately all over again.

After a few moments, she pulls away from her son. She continues holding the young man's shoulders as she stares sadly at his lowered face.

"Ryou, look at me."

Ryou swallows.

He looks up slowly.

"Dreams aren't supposed to feel this real," he says, and he hates himself for a moment.

Out of _all _the things he's been dying for _one more moment _to tell his mother, _that's _what comes out of his mouth.

She ignores Ryou's comment and instead replies,

"I check up on you every day. I've watched you this whole past year."

Ryou feels a sudden rush of shame.

That means that his mother saw the all the _partying _and_ booze_ the _lying _and the _hating _in the past year. She saw all of his _confusion _and just how _lost _he's been. How much of a _let down _and _hypocrite_ he's turned in to (according to all of his _friends_).

Of course, with all of these thoughts racing through his brain, Ryou's mother's next words almost knock the boy off of his feet.

"I am _so _proud of you."

Ryou's head snaps up.

More tears are falling now and he doesn't try to stop them.

"_Why_?" Ryou squeaks; the word comes out so pitifully and Ryou feels like a child again; lost and alone and needing his _mother_.

Ryou's mother smiles at her son; it's as if she knows every thought racing through the boy's brain. "Because you're wonderful, Ryou."

Ryou clenches his eyes shut as a sudden barrage of tears begins. He shakes his head desperately and whimpers a little.

No, no, _no_.

He doesn't _want _this to be happening. He can't _take _his mother saying those words. He _knows _he's not wonderful, but he _hates _himself because he doesn't really want to make the changes to _be _wonderful.

"M-mother…" A short sob. "P-please just _leave_."

He is _so _glad his eyes were closed as the words came out of his lips. He doesn't know if he could have handled seeing his Mother's face after what he said.

At first, there was only a thoughtful silence.

Then…

"We all have rough patches in our lives, Ryou. You've made mistakes; that doesn't make you any less of a person. We _all_, as humans, make mistakes. I understand. Please don't worry. You'll get through this."

It happens right then.

Ryou lets out a huge sob, and feelings of joy, sorrow, inner agony, loathing, and _gratefulness_ burst forth, and he _falls _into his Mother's arms and _cries_.

She sadly buries her face into her son's white hair and wraps her arms around the shivering boy. She waits as Ryou's tears run their course, and then she lets silence sit for a few minutes as Ryou composes his thoughts.

"Please tell me why I'm here. Why _you're _here," Ryou whispers, still with his face pressed against his mother's sweater (it was a light blue sweater; Ryou remembers it because he got it for his mother's birthday when he was 9 and was _so happy _because his mother _loved _it and wore it as much as she could) and his arms still wrapped around the woman, as well.

She pauses.

Slowly, so slowly, she pulls away from Ryou. Ryou frowns at looks into his mother's eyes, and he feels his heart pound a little faster as he spots the tears rolling down his mother's cheeks.

Then, she speaks.

"Ryou…you're dead."

* * *

><p>Dun dun dun! Reviews are much appreciated. Oh, and Bakura should reappear within the next few chapters ^_^<p> 


	3. The Driest Thing I've Ever Known

**AN**: Thanks for all the reviews guys! I honestly can't think of anything else to say (which is a first) =D

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>PAINT THE ROSES RED<strong>

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><p><em>two: the driest thing i've ever known<em>

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><p>Ryou's eyes snap open.<p>

For a moment, he just stands there. He just stares wide-eyed at his Mother, mouth slightly agape. Then slowly, so slowly, the word stutters out of his lips.

"W-_what_?"

Ryou's Mother frowns sadly and lets go of her son. There's a painful, strange silence before she sighs heavily. "Ryou…please try to remember."

Ryou stares back at the woman in horror, and he can think of nothing to say. His brow furrows and he looks down and shakes his head violently, stepping back, moving away.

He doesn't want to be _near _his Mother. Now, his Mother doesn't represent surprise, joy, or gratefulness. Now, his Mother represents Death.

_His _death.

This "dream" is turning into a nightmare, and Ryou doesn't like it.

"N-no—_Mom_, what are you _talking _about? This is a _dream_. I'm not—"

And suddenly, it starts.

Flashes of those memories that he had forgotten. What happened before he came here, to this relaxed, quiet, Autumn-filled place.

There's two young men. There's an argument. There's shouting, blaming, fear of the truth. There's a distracted driver. There's a crash. There's pain, agony. There is death.

There is Bakura, slumped lifeless in the driver's seat.

"Oh my _God_," Ryou cries, his voice breaking, and then he's on the ground. He's on the ground, and his hands are yanking at his hair and he's shaking back and forth and he's _horrified_. His face is pale and the tears are exploding out of his eyes now, and he can't see clearly but he _thinks_ that his Mother is still standing there, but he can't face actually _talking _to her again, because he know and she _must know _that both his death and Bakura's death is _his _fault.

The reaction was expected, but the minute she actually _sees _it, Ryou's Mother feels tears sliding down her cheeks. Seeing her child in such agony is so dreadful.

Cautiously, she steps forward. She walks forward until she's standing right next to her son's shaking form on the ground. (She doesn't want to actually bend down and hug Ryou; She can tell that that's not what Ryou wants at the moment, and he'll respect that).

"Oh, Ryou," she says, and her voice is filled with sorrow and pity. Her face melts into a look that mirrors his feelings exactly. "Please, _please_ don't cry. This is _not_ your fault."

At those words, Ryou feels fury explode inside. He flies his head up and shoots a death glare at his Mother, and he begins yelling even though his words are barely understandable through his sobs.

"Wh-what are you tal-_talking _about? Mom, Bakura is dead because of _me_! _I'm _dead because of _me_!"

At those last words, he truly can't believe the situation he's in.

He is dead. He took his own life.

And he took Bakura's.

A dreadful, ear-shattering sob erupts from him and he hides his head in his hands and shuts up.

His Mother's frown deepens. "Ryou, this was an accident. It was a _car _accident. The other driver was drunk and drifted into your lane. In no way was this your—"

Ryou's head shoots up again, and his eyes watery and sad.

"Stop it," he whispers.

His Mother obeys.

Ryou stares back down at his white, bony, vein-covered hands. He clenches the fabric of his pants, and he feels his body begin to tremor horrifically. He's shaking and shaking and his teeth are chattering and it feels like his bones are all breaking because he's shaking _so hard_.

And then finally…

"Ryou, as painful as this is, this is a start of a journey for you."

Ryou blinks and he stops shaking.

His Mother's voice is softly stern, and when Ryou looks up to see his Mother's face, she is staring at him, all seriousness.

Ryou feels anger, frustration, and _hate _well up inside of him, but he knows that deep down all those feelings are just covers for his utter hopelessness and helplessness.

"_What_ are you talking about?" Ryou says, his voice becoming higher and more hysterical with each word.

His Mother sighs. She looks down at the ground beneath her feet for a moment; then, she looks back up. Her brown eyes, the ones that are almost an exact copy of Ryou's, are sad.

"Ryou…I don't want to talk to you about this right now. But we'll speak again later; I promise."

Then, it happens.

Slowly, so slowly, his Mother begins _fading_.

It's subtle at first, but Ryou notices that his Mother's outline is getting a bit blurry, and then parts of her are melting into the background, and then finally she's all but completely _gone_.

Terror begins to fill Ryou at the speed of light.

He does _not _want to be alone.

As frustrated, shocked, or God-_knows_-what he was towards his Mother, she was still his _Mother_, and Ryou was _talking _to her after a year and a half, and while Ryou was talking to her Ryou wasn't _alone _in this unknown place with nothing but his demons to keep him company.

Flashes of being alone and lost and hopeless in this eerie place play through his mind.

Tears are pouring down his cheeks, now, and he's _desperate_.

"M-Mom!" he chokes out, and he runs forward, hand outstretched. "Oh _God_, Mom, please don't go!"

Ryou dives forward, and in that moment, he has never experienced a worse mix of emotions.

Pure horror, anguish, self-loathing, frustration, regret, and misery floods his veins and pounds through every nook and cranny of his body as he tries to grasp the ghost of what is left of his Mother. His fingertips immediately float over nothing but air, nothing but cold, lonely, _empty_ air, and he loses his balance.

Next thing he knows, he's sprawled on the cobblestone ground, the rough rock scratching his face, staring hopelessly, helplessly, _blankly_ off to the side, stone-still.

His mouth is dry.

His head is pounding.

His eyes are aching from so many tears.

His heart is going a million miles an hour.

He doesn't _understand _it.

"Mom…why'd you go?" he whispers out.

His voice is like sandpaper against his throat, and he _knows _that he sounds like a pathetic, lost child.

He is met with nothing but silence.

The wind rustles and carries more leaves across the cobblestone pathway, the clouds block the sun a little bit, and he's all alone. Not a soul is with him.

And then, out of his lips comes a moan.

It's quite a terrifying moan.

All his fear and self-hate comes out in that moan, and he just wants to _die_.

But then—oh wait.

He's already _dead_.

He clenches his eyes shut, rests his forehead against the hard, painful ground, and mummers out,

"_Why_?"

The wind rustles again.

Ryou opens his eyes because…

…Because if he heard it right, if he listened closely enough to that last Autumn breeze that carried a few dead, brown leaves across his view, then he heard a _voice_, too.

A _voice _was carried with that wind.

His _Mother's _voice.

And his Mother's voice was _answering_ him.

_Why?_, Ryou had asked. _Why?_

"_All things happen for a reason, Ryou,_" is what his Mother's voice tells him.

* * *

><p>All of a sudden, Ryou feels the ground below him change.<p>

It's not rough cobblestone anymore. In fact, it's not rough at _all_.

It's soft.

Familiar.

It's dark green carpet.

Ryou blinks.

He lifts up his head, trying to clear his foggy mind.

No longer is he all alone on that autumn pathway behind his home; now, he is in a dark-lit living room.

The living room of his childhood home.

He's right at the foot of the staircase, which is right in front of the front door.

There's a fire lit in the fireplace, and outside, if Ryou looks closely, he can see _faint_, _tiny_ snowflakes falling.

There is a Christmas tree.

It's right in the middle of the room, grandiose and the epitome of the holiday season, and under it lie many presents wrapped in colorful paper.

It's wintertime.

_Christmas time._

Ryou flies up.

The pain and exhaustion from before are suddenly gone now, and he feels a rush of anxiousness. He's in _another _new place.

"Hello?" he calls out, and looks around. No one replies.

But then—

In front of him, Ryou suddenly sees two forms.

They're adults; one's a female, one is a male.

Ryou mentally kicks himself for not noticing them before.

He walks over the few feet to be near them. He taps the man on the shoulder.

"Excuse me-?"

Then he stops mid sentence because…

_Oh my God_.

It's his _father_.

And the man in front of his father, is his_ Mother_.

Ryou feels his heart begin to pound.

His father left on Christmas Eve, when Ryou was three years old. All Ryou ever saw of him were old pictures.

His Mother would pass away in seven years time, and his father either won't know about it, or won't care.

Tears well at the corner of his eyes.

He clenches them shut and clenches his hands into fists as well.

He will _not _let his father come into his mind.

Ryou will _not _let that man haunt him _anymore _or cause him pain.

The minute he was old enough to understand how much pain he had cause him and his Mother by leaving, he decided he would _not_ be a part of his life; he would just be a far off memory Ryou would never revisit or let bother him. He's spent his entire life trying to keep that promise to himself.

But in this very moment, he can't help but let _some _misery and anger flood his veins.

After all…the scene is unfolding in front of him because now the people, who were, before, frozen in time, are talking.

Yelling, actually.

"I can't _believe _you're doing this!" his Mother screams, fury burning in her eyes, throwing her arms out. "You're leaving me and your three-year-old son, on _Christmas Eve_, for some woman you just met?"

Ryou's father glares.

"I've been seeing her for over half a year now. I didn't _just _meet her, don't be an idiot. I love her. She loves me. She _cares _about—"

"I DON'T _CARE_!" Ryou's Mother interrupts with an ear-shattering cry. "YOU'RE STILL DESERTING _RYOU_!"

His father frowns, and now fury is burning in _his _eyes.

"YOU HAVE MADE ME _MISERABLE_. I'VE SPENT THE LAST SEVEN YEARS OF MY LIFE COMPLETELY _MISERABLE_ WITH YOU. I NEED TO GET _RID_ OF IT ALL. ALL THIS _PAIN_. I NEED TO GET RID OF _YOU_!"

She pauses and watches as his Mother's face is stricken with horror and pain at his words.

"And if getting the fresh start that I would _kill_ for means leaving _Ryou_ as well as you, then so be it."

And then he is gone out the door into the dark, snowy night.

For a minute, Ryou's Mother just continues standing in front of the door. She's motionless, wordless.

Ryou steps forward, knowing that tears are rolling down his cheeks.

For most of his life, his Mother had briefly mentioned or described how his father left to Ryou. That information was so rare and so little, and since Ryou was so young when he left, he really had no idea how the whole situation played out.

But now…now, he's _seen_ it.

He has no idea _why _or _how _in God's name he witnessed it, _especially _since it happened eighteen years ago, but he _did_.

And he can't believe what he saw.

He can't _believe _how heartless his father was. And most of all, he can't _believe_ how concerned about _him _his Mother was.

It wasn't about "you're leaving _me_" like most people would react; it was about "you're leaving _Ryou_".

Slowly, he inches behind his Mother, and he reaches out to touch his parent's shoulder.

But his hand goes right through the body.

For a minute, Ryou gets a fleeting rush of panic.

But then he remembers…

_I'm _dead_. She can't see me._

Ryou brings his hand back down to his side, sniffles, and tries to clear his eyes.

All of a sudden, from behind him, he hears a small sound.

Tiny, shuffling feet.

Eerily in sync, Ryou and his Mother turn to stare up the staircase.

There, behind the banister, standing in small, warm, light blue pajamas, peeking out sleepily and rubbing his big hazel eyes with tiny hands, stands three-year-old Ryou.

Ryou's face melts into a look of pity.

It's as if he's not looking at _himself _as the next thought rushes through his head.

_Poor boy. He has no idea his dad just completely deserted him. _

"Ryou…what are you doing up?"

His Mother speaks, and Ryou watches as she steps forward to the stairs, places a hand on the railing, and tries to hold back tears Ryou sees shimmering at the corner of her eyes.

Ryou feels an overwhelming sense of love and admiration for his Mother suddenly.

He never truly realized just how _strong _his Mother was through his entire life. He raised Ryou by _herself_ after she was walked out on so cruelly. Raised him until the day she died.

Three-year-old Ryou stops rubbing his eyes for a moment and answers in his young English,

"Noises, Mommy. Loud noises. They scare me."

Ryou feels a couple more tears roll down his cheeks as he watches his younger self.

Then, he notices something.

His Mother is crying.

Slowly, so slowly, she walks up the staircase, the wooden steps creaking oh-so slightly, and she reaches the top. She reaches down and scoops up her young son into her arms, and she sits.

There's quiet for a moment.

It's supposed to be the quiet of Christmas; the quiet of what is supposed to be excitement for "Santa", the joy of family and laughter, and _peace_.

Instead, it the quiet of heartbreak, shock, and a little bit of blissful naivety.

Ryou stands at the foot of the steps and watches his younger self and his Mother in awe.

Three year old Ryou reaches up slowly and pats his Mother's cheek lightly.

"You cry, Mommy," he whispers.

She visibly tenses and sniffles.

"Don't you worry, Ry," she replies, his tone shaky but strong, "I'm fine. Now, let's get you back to—"

The next question almost knocks Ryou off of his feet.

His three year old self looks up innocently, blinks slowly, and says,

"Mommy, Daddy left. Where he go?"

Silence again.

Ryou's head is spinning.

_Why _doesn't he remember _any _of this?

At her son's question, Ryou's Mother, simply blinks.

Ryou sees that he is shaking slightly.

"Daddy left because he wasn't feeling well and had to go somewhere to feel better."

Three-year-old Ryou blinks.

"His tummy hurt?"

Ryou and his Mother both smile at that.

"Sure, Ryou…" she sighs heavily. "His tummy hurt."

* * *

><p>The world around Ryou begins to fade.<p>

Ryou snaps back into reality as soon as he sees the outlines of things become blurrier and blurrier.

He's going someplace else; he has no idea where, why, or how it's happening, but somehow, he's traveling through time.

He's a bit afraid, he'll admit, and he's confused. But for some reason, he's faintly _excited_ too.

But right before the living room fades around him, right before the all-too familiar atmosphere leaves, Ryou hears one last snippet of conversation from his past:

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Ryou?"

"Mewwy Cwhistmas."

"Merry Christmas, Ryou. I love you and always will."

Ryou smiles and closes his eyes.

For a minute, everything is okay.

The next moment, when Ryou opens his eyes, he's standing in the same living room.

For a moment, he's confused. Wasn't he supposed to go somewhere _else_?

He looks around a bit more.

There's a fire going in the fireplace.

There's a Christmas tree in the middle of the room.

The calendar on the fireplace mantle reads "December 24th".

It's almost _exactly _like the scene Ryou just came from.

For a minute, Ryou gets a rush of fury and horror.

He just went through an unbelievably painful experience—to watch his Mother leave like that. He does _not _want to have to witness it again.

Was this some kind of punishment for his horrible life on Earth? Was he going to have to spend Eternity re-watching that horrible moment from his past over and over because he made so many mistakes? Was he—

"Hey, Mom, can I ask you something?"

Ryou snaps his head around the second he hears the voice. He blinks in shock as soon as he sees the source.

There, in front of him and next to the Christmas tree, stands his nine-year-old self. His Mother, a bit older since the last time he saw him, sits on the couch, reading a magazine, a year before she got sick and passed away.

Ryou takes a shaky breath of relief in. He's in a different time; a different place. He's not sure _what _to expect in this memory or flashback or whatever this is. The last one was so heart wrenching; he's not sure how it could get any worse, but at least it's not the _same_.

Ryou, once he recomposes himself, begins to observe the scene a bit more closely, and as soon as he does, he notices that his nine-year-old self looks sort of…uneasy.

He's got his arms folded across his chest, and one hand's fingers are tapping nervously against his elbow. His shoulders are high and tense, and he has a frown on his face.

And then, once again, Ryou notes, his younger self and his Mother cannot see him at all.

Upon noticing her son standing next to him, Ryou's Mother takes a breath in and closes her magazine. She puts the article neatly down next to her on the couch cushion, and she turns to his son, trying not to act at all surprised to see his child's obvious uneasiness.

"Yeah, of course. What's up, Ryou?" she says, and smiles softly.

Nine-year-old Ryou swallows. He shifts uneasily. Then…

"Mom, Dad left this same night six years ago, and you've never really told me why."

Ryou's jaw drops at his younger self's comment.

_Why _does he not _remember _this?

She looks taken back.

There's an awkward silence, and she painfully, obviously, has no idea what to say.

Ryou feels like smacking his younger self for causing his Mother so much discomfort.

But then, finally, she sighs deeply.

She looks down at the ground.

She stares at it for a few wordless moments.

And then…

"All things happen for a reason, Ryou."

Ryou's jaw falls open, and his breath stops.

That's _exactly _what his Mother's spirit had told him earlier on the Autumn pathway.

Nine-year-old Ryou, however, takes the answer a bit differently. His face falls in disappointment, and he awkwardly looks down.

Ryou suddenly notices how _thin_ his younger self is. He _never _remembers being that thin.

"Yeah, Mom. Okay. I guess you're right," nine-year-old Ryou whispers in reply, and his Mother's face fills with sadness as he sees his son's obvious disappointment.

"Ry, listen to me…it's not that I don't—" she reaches out a hand to her child, but as soon as she does, younger Ryou snaps his head up, his eyes a bit more narrow and his tone a bit more bitter.

"You know what, Mom? I think I'm just gonna go upstairs for now. I'm just gonna go upstairs in my room and listen to music and read or something. _Okay_?"

Then he flies around and dashes to the steps before racing up to the second floor.

Ryou is left standing in the empty, lonely living room with his Mother. He turns to stare at her and he swallows sadly.

She slowly lowers the hand she had out to comfort his son and lets it drape tiredly across her leg as she sighs. She closes his eyes and she shakes her head. For a minute, she just sits there thoughtfully and Ryou watches her, realizing how much his Mother truly cared for him and how much pain he caused her.

And then finally, she looks up towards the staircase, and as if her son is still in the room, she continues,

"I can't tell you _why_ he left Ryou, because I don't really understand it myself."

And then, she stops moving.

For a minute, Ryou's heart races.

After all, he's not used to time stopping and starting so suddenly like this.

But then, as he watches his Mother's frozen-in-space form, he hears tiny, scampering feet and a jingle of metal.

His eyes widen and he flies around.

His face breaks out into a mind-blowing, humongous grin as he sees his new companion.

There, scampering up to him, in his favorite crimson red collar with his tail going 100 miles per hour, is Ryou's old pet Beagle, Charlie.

Ryou falls onto the ground and holds his arms out.

"_Charlie_!" he exclaims, and as the dog runs up into his arms, he feels a few tears slip down his cheeks.

Charlie promptly begins licking his master's face in greeting, and Ryou giggles happily.

It's been so _long_ since he last saw his favorite pet. Charlie died about two years ago after Ryou had him for over twelve years, and as much as all his friends made fun of him for it, he loved that dog so _freakin'_ much.

Ryou adjusts himself on the ground so that he can hold Charlie more comfortably. He holds the pet so that he's staring right into his familiar chocolate-brown, loving eyes, and he just sits there joyfully for a moment, smiling.

_Well, at least there's _one _good thing about dying. You get to meet up again with those who have _died_._

"Oh, Charlie, it's so good to see you again," Ryou whispers, and he pulls the dog closer to his body and nuzzles his face into his warm fur. "I've missed you so, _so_ much."

Charlie's tail hasn't stopped wagging since he first arrived, and at Ryou's previous words, he jumps up happily and licks Ryou's face.

Ryou laughs and wipes off the leftover drool.

For a minute, he and Charlie just sit there on Ryou's living room floor, with Ryou rubbing the dog's ears and Charlie sitting, all cuddled up, in Ryou's lap.

But then, Ryou realizes something.

He blinks; he pauses in scratching his pet's ears, and he licks his lips nervously.

"Wait, Charlie…why are you _here_?"

He hates to have such a pessimistic attitude. Really, he does.

But…A: he's always _been _a pessimistic person; that's just who he is, even though he _loathes _himself for it, and B: In this world, this, _afterlife_, so to speak, he doubts that people or, in this case, animals from his past show up to simply say "hello".

At his question, Charlie raises his head and stares at the staircase across from them. His ears perk up, as if he hears something.

Ryou leans forward a bit in caution and curiosity. "What is it, boy? Is there something there?"

He's not sure _what _could _possibly _be lurking in the shadows of _his _Death, but who really knows. It's more than likely something supernatural, and Ryou's not so sure he feels totally…_ comfortable _with that.

All of a sudden, Charlie _flies _up. He _darts_ across the carpeted floor, to the staircase, and _races_ up, his collar jingling madly and his paw tapping on the wood all the way.

Ryou sits back in the living room, dumbfounded. His jaw hangs open, and he's _still_ not really sure what just happened, but then he shakes his head and snaps back into reality.

He jumps up and sprints after his dog.

Without thinking, he races up the steps to his old home and flies down the hallway.

Then, he reaches it.

His old bedroom door.

It's half open; the space is big enough for Charlie to squeeze through, which is what Ryou thinks the dog did.

From inside comes a dull light, and it illuminates the pitch-black hallway Ryou now stands in.

But Ryou can't do it.

He can't walk through that door.

He just _can't_.

He can't walk back into his past, his room, the place where there was so much angst and inner-pain.

He feels like he'd be intruding on something…something _sacred_, almost.

So for a minute, Ryou just continues standing in the hallway, and he looks around and observes.

This…this _world_ he's in.

It's so _real_.

Everything, every little detail, from the color of the walls to the tiny chip in the wood on the left side of the mahogany table right outside his door, is _exactly_ like he remembers it.

And then, then, for some reason, he can't _stand _to be standing there, in the dark corridor, alone.

So he takes a deep, _deep_ inhale, and he throws open his bedroom door.

He is greeted with the sight of his nine-year-old self on the ground by his bed. There is a book open on his lap, and he pets Charlie as the animal snoozes soundly next to him. There's a dim light coming from the lamp on his desk, and his room is rather untidy, typical of a young boy his age.

There are tears rolling down his younger self's cheeks.

As always, Ryou is not seen.

_Charlie_ doesn't even see Ryou, and Ryou feels his heart drop as he realizes that those few moments back in the living room were the only time he was going to get to spend with his old dog.

But Ryou remembers suddenly, the quote that his Mother said twice before:

_Things happen for a reason._

So he sits down, cross-legged, and he waits. He watches.

His younger self simply continues stroking Charlie, and he flips a page in the book he's reading.

Then, suddenly, nine-year-old Ryou lets out a small sob, and Ryou's heart drops.

"I-I'm such a baby for crying, Charlie..." he whispers, and he tries to wipe his tears away and stop himself. "B-but I can't help it. I don't know why he would just leave. Am I just not, like, good enough or something? Did I fail in some kind of weird `be-a-good-son' test?"

Ryou looks away.

Feelings of worthlessness and failure he had bottled up his entire childhood are rushing back to him like a waterfall, and at the moment, it's a bit much.

"I-I just…I don't know…"

Nine-year-old Ryou closes the book he's reading and places it on the ground next to him. In place of the book on his lap, he picks up his pet. Together, wordlessly, the dog and the boy sit in the orange light, and the boy cries.

Then it happens again.

Time stops.

The moment is frozen, and Ryou dares himself to look.

He swallows.

Slowly, so slowly, he stands up.

Nothing is happening.

Nothing is becoming blurry; nothing is fading away. He's not leaving just yet.

And in that very moment, Ryou spots on the ground the book his younger self was reading.

_A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. _

Ryou's eyes widen as the story's plot comes into his mind.

_Scrooge was a bad person. Mean, selfish. _

_He needed to learn a lesson, so "ghosts" took him on a journey. _

_The Ghost of Christmas _Past.

_The Ghost of Christmas _Present.

_The Ghost of Christmas _Future.

Ryou steps back.

His head is reeling.

"O-oh my God…" he whispers out, and he tries to regain his composure, but it's not working.

Because in that moment, he knows what all of this is.

The resemblance of that book and what is happening to him is too strong to be just a resemblance, and it is not a coincidence that his younger self is reading it right when Ryou comes to visit.

Suddenly, his world starts to get dark.

His vision is like a tunnel; he starts shaking; his body feels prickly.

He feels himself falling.

He's terrified.

He has no idea what is going to happen to him.

Then it all goes completely black.

_All things happen for a reason, Ryou._

* * *

><p>Yeaaahhhh. So, reviews are muchly appreciated :D<em><br>_


	4. Drink Me

**AN**:Once again thanks for the reviews! I'm off school now so I should be updating more often =D

* * *

><p><strong>PAINT THE ROSES RED<strong>

* * *

><p><em>three: `drink me'<em>

* * *

><p>Ryou awakens and it's springtime.<p>

The fresh scent of newly cut grass and clear air fills his nostrils, and birds chirp and sound all around him.

It's actually a rather nice thing to wake up to after getting such a shock.

Gently, Ryou's hazel eyes open. He's lying on his stomach in someone's yard. The soft grass and cool dirt feel good on his skin, but he knows he has to get up, so painfully, he pushes himself off of the ground, blinks to clear his vision, and swallows to try and stop the pounding in his head.

He squints. Even light spring sunshine hurts his eyes.

Once again, he is met with all too familiar sights.

He is in his old neighborhood. The homes are all around, and everyone's yard is bursting with flowers and bushes and everything's so _perfect _Ryou wants to puke.

Then, all of a sudden, an ear-piercing sound echoes through his eardrums.

_Vroom! VROOM!_

Ryou, startled, jumps about a mile high and hastily beings to glance around like a frightened deer.

His mother with the lawnmower soon fills his panorama.

Ryou visibly relaxes and feels foolish for being so spooked.

His mother is dressed in a nice white top and khaki shorts, and she looks fairly healthy and happy. Ryou is so glad for that; he was getting so fed up with seeing his mother so distraught in the last two places he's been.

No one else seems to be out at the time at first glance, but then Ryou looks more closely, behind his mother, near the boundary between his house's yard and the neighbor's, and he sees another small form.

Ryou can't help but let out a huge laugh at the sight of his six year old self whacking golf balls into the yard next to theirs.

What a little troublemaker he was when he was younger!

Ryou's smile suddenly fades.

_Wait a minute…this day, this memory…it's—_

"Ryou could you please stop that? I don't want Mr. and Mrs. Johnson to get angry," His mother pauses in mowing the lawn for a moment to scold her young son from across the way.

Six-year-old Ryou frowns, but he shrugs and puts down the golf club for the time being.

She smiles. "Thanks, Ry."

Then, all of a sudden, two forms appear on the sidewalk in front of Ryou's yard. The first is an older man; he has shimmering purple eyes and a bright smile. He wears a hat which partially covers his gray hair. Next to him saunters a young boy with tri-coloured black, purple and at the front, dark blonde hair and the same bright purple eyes as his grandfather.

Ryou's eyes light up, and he feels an overwhelming ache of nostalgia and love as he watches his six-year-old best friend approach.

"Yugi…" he whispers to himself, and he lets a smile take hold of his features.

_This is the day Yugi and I first met._

The older man raises a hand as he catches sight of Ryou's mother. "Hey!" he calls, "How's it goin'?"

Ryou's mother waves in response before cutting off the loud lawnmower. "Hey! I'm doing fine. Just tryin' to get some long overdue yard work done."

The two of them exchange a small laugh at her words, and then Ryou's mother walks over to the two on the sidewalk. "What are you two up to?" she asks comfortably.

Yugi's grandfather smiles. "Oh, we're just taking a little walk. My grandson Yugi here is visiting for the weekend, and I thought he'd like to get outside on such a great day."

Ryou's mother smiles down at Yugi. "Hey little man. Are you having fun with your grandpa?"

Yugi smiles cheekily and nods overly-enthusiastically in that way little children often do.

They laugh. Then, Ryou's mother blinks, just remembering something. "Oh, I want you to meet my son," he turns, "Ryou! Come over for a minute please!"

Ryou turns to see his younger self's reply.

He lets out a small chuckle as he does.

His six-year-old self had gone back to smacking golf balls into the neighbor's yard after his mother was distracted, but as soon as he notices the visitors and hears his mom calling, he drops the golf club in less than a second and has scurried over obediently to avoid trouble.

His mother laughs a little and shakes her head. "Solomon, this is my son Ryou. Ryou, this is my friend from work, Mr. Mutou, and this is his grandson, Yugi."

Six-year-old Ryou, being sort of shy, continues standing behind his mother's leg. Slowly, though, he peers out, and smiles softly as he sees Yugi.

Yugi's grandpa laughs a little. "Yugi, why don't you and Ryou go play a little bit?"

Yugi nods excitedly and races forward. He grabs a hold of Ryou's hand and exclaims, "Come on!" before the two little boys race off into the yard.

The two adults shake their heads, laugh, and then begin to speak about something going on at work.

Ryou's attention quickly switches from his mom and Yugi's grandfather to across the yard where Yugi and his younger self had dashed off.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment, smiles, and feels the excitement fill him.

He's going to get to re-live one of the best moments of his life. He's going to get to "re-meet" his best, longest friend.

Immediately, he breaks into a sprint and flies around the house to join the two little boys.

He slows down as soon as he reaches the all-too familiar, wooden swing set right in the middle of the yard. Yugi and his younger self and swinging together, and Ryou chuckles as he sees how uncomfortable his six-year-old self is compared to Yugi, who is laughing and chattering happily away.

Ryou pauses. Now that he thinks about it, it's _always _been like that.

He's usually _always _the one who is awkward or uneasy or nervous or hostile, and Yugi is _always _the one who takes over and helps him out by being utterly comfortable, confident, understanding, and kind.

It was this unspoken thing between the two of them, and Yugi never objected to helping Ryou out in those situations.

Ryou exhales heavily as he remembers that he will never see Yugi again.

He shakes off his almost-tears and regret and decides that he will simply enjoy this memory to the fullest extent.

He saunters over to the swing set and sits down on the swing next to the two-seater that his younger self and Yugi are now on. Carefully, he smiles and begins to listen to Yugi's young voice as he starts a friendship that will last more than half of Ryou's life.

"My favorite color is red. What's yours?" Yugi exclaims, and Ryou laughs.

His six-year-old self has quite a different reaction, however, and shrugs shyly.

Yugi smiles. "It's okay if you don't know it. A lot of kids don't know their favorite color."

Six-year-old Ryou frowns. "I _know _it. I just don't want to _tell_ you."

Yugi's smile grows. "That's okay, too!"

Ryou shakes his head at Yugi's kindness and ability to bounce back with something so positive and understanding after his younger self just shot something so negative and rude at him.

_Some things never change_, Ryou thinks, remember how many times Yugi had put up with his negativity through the years.

"How old are you? I'm just six."

"I'm almost seven."

"Aw _man_! You're older!"

"Not _too_ much."

"You're right! We can still be best friends

"So, Ryou…why were you hitting balls into the neighbor's yard?"

Six-year-old Ryou shrugs.

"I dunno. I was bored."

Yugi suddenly stops the swing.

"Was it fun?" he asks, his voice brimming with hope and excitement.

Six-year-old Ryou blinks.

"Yeah, it _was_ really fun," he replies, and looks down at his shoes.

Yugi hops off of the swing as smoothly as he can, considering he's so small still and the swing is so big.

"You wanna go hit some _more_ golf balls?" he suggests and bounces up and down excitedly.

Six-year-old Ryou looks up. He blinks. "You really wanna? With _me_?"

It's Yugi's turn to blink. "Yeah! `Course! We're bestest friends, now!"

And then, for the first time since he and Yugi were first introduced, six-year-old Ryou _smiles_.

"Okay! Let's go!" he cries, and then he hops off of the swing as well.

Then the two little boys scamper off to where several bright red, plastic golf balls and a bright red, matching golf club lie in the fluorescent green grass.

Ryou stares after them.

He watches as the two happily continuing giggling and chattering, and he remains sitting on the swing.

His stomach hurts.

Or maybe it's his heart.

He's not sure which, but he feels like dying, again, even though he's already _dead_.

Slowly, he closes his eyes, feels the world around him start to melt away, realizes that this memory is over, and…

…He starts crying.

* * *

><p>"Go to Hell, Yugi! Go. To. <em>Hell<em>!"

A door slams and Ryou blinks.

He is no longer in front of the swings, with his younger self and best friend before him.

Now, he is in a dark hallway.

The hallway of his house back home.

He wipes the tears from his eyes and quickly tries to re-gain his composure to get ready for whatever might happen next.

All of a sudden, someone flies out of a door up ahead.

Ryou's eyes widen.

It, once again, is himself.

But he's not _younger_.

He's the age he is now.

And he is _furious_.

A voice follows himself out of the room he just exited.

"Good God, Ryou, how much of an idiot can you _be_?"

Ryou recognizes the voice right away.

It _is_ Yugi.

Soon after, the familiar boy appears in the doorway Ryou just stormed out of, and he watches himself fly around and flip Yugi off.

Ryou's jaw drops at what he just witnessed himself do.

Suddenly, he remembers what memory this is.

It was a few days before he…before he died.

He and Yugi had gotten into a huge fight. A fight Ryou is now so ashamed of.

A fight that means that he never got to say good-bye to his longest friend.

Yugi gets a look of disgust on his face after his friend gives him the finger, and _his_ jaw drops as well.

"Oh my _God_, Ryou. Oh my _God_. What did I _do_ for God's sake?" he screams.

Ryou's eyes narrow to slits.

"You come in here and _insult _every single one of my choices, my life, and me. _That's _what you do!" he hisses back, and Yugi shakes his head.

"Oh no way. _No way_!"

He runs forward.

Ryou runs farther down the hallway and into the kitchen area to avoid his approaching friend, and Ryou closes his eyes as he is soon walked straight through (_Note to self: not only can you walk through people, but they can walk through _you_ too!_). Yugi follows soon after. Ryou turns around and follows the drama.

"Ryou, I never meant to insult you at all, I'm just saying—" Yugi starts, truly attempting to make peace and be honest, but Ryou will have none of it.

"Shut _up_. You _know _you meant what you said. You _know _you called my life a complete hypocrisy and _me_ an absolute liar. You _know _you did; don't try to _lie _to my _face_ about it!"

Yugi shakes his head sadly, utterly shocked at his friend's accusations.

"I said no such things, Ryou."

Suddenly, Ryou watches as he does something so utterly mind-blowing that it disgusts him more than he could ever imagine.

He _truly _hates himself as he sees it.

Ryou grabs a glass off of the counter right next to him, and he chucks it full-force at his best friend.

Yugi, thankfully, moves out of the way at _just _the right moment, but it still doesn't discount what Ryou just _did_.

Yugi stands there, wide-eyed, horrified.

Ryou is beyond furious, breathing so heavily; he's obviously making an attempt to control himself.

Finally, Yugi speaks, and the words cut Ryou to the _bone_.

"You're just like your father."

At that, Ryou's already angry eyes _blaze _with hate and he cries,

"GET _OUT_! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, MY LIFE, AND DON'T YOU _EVER _COME BACK!"

Yugi shakes his head.

"Is that what you _really _want, Ryou?" he asks, oh-so calmly in that way he has.

Ryou roars in anger. "I SAID _LEAVE. _YOU ARE A FILTHY, SELFISH LIAR, YUGI. I DON'T KNOW WHY IN GOD'S NAME I WAS FRIENDS WITH YOU FOR AS LONG AS I WAS. YOU'RE _WORTHLESS._"

Ryou actually falls to the ground in utter humiliation and shock as he watches himself. Tears explode from his eyes as he sees Yugi's devastated face, and for a minute, he feels, to the fullest extent, that he _deserved _to die.

Yugi doesn't say a word in reply.

All he does is silently walk out of the house and close the door gently.

Ryou is alone with himself, now.

The tears are _pouring _down his cheeks in rivulets and he runs forward and starts to _hit _himself _so hard_, even though his fists go right through his body.

"_YOU _GO TO HELL, RYOU. _YOU _GO TO HELL! _YOU'RE _THE IDIOT, THE WORTHLESS IDIOT. MY GOD, RYOU, YOU ARE AN _IDIOT_!" he's screeching at himself, sobbing, and he feels nothing but miserable fury. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT? WHY DID YOU _DO _THAT? _HOW _COULD YOU DO THAT? AFTER ALL HE DID FOR YOU—AFTER ALL HE _MEANT _TO YOU—YOU JUST DESTROYED YOUR RELATIONSHIP! GOD, RYOU, GOD YOU'RE AN _IDIOT_!"

He falls to the ground now, onto his knees, sobbing. He's shaking and sobbing, and he feels so _frustrated_.

And then…

…the world around him starts to change.

* * *

><p>Review =)<p> 


	5. Without Pictures Or Conversations

**AN**: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews and faves! Ryou and Yugi experiment with makeup in this chapter xD BECAUSE. I. CAN. And I think it'd be cute x)

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p><em>four: without pictures or conversations<em>

* * *

><p>When he arrives at his next destination, he just lies on his back for a while.<p>

He lies on his back, and he stares at the gray-blue ceiling above him. It's quiet, wherever he is, and there aren't many people around him. Occasionally he hears the shuffling of _something_, but mostly it's a very silent place.

He truly hates himself.

He cannot _believe_ that memory he just witnessed.

Yugi was such an amazing friend. From the very beginning, it was as if he _understood_ Ryou. It was as if he understood that Ryou was _so_ different, and that to be friends with Ryou, you were going to have to put up with some extraordinary troubles. Whatever happened, Yugi was ready to, and _did_, face it all.

Ryou clenches his eyes shut as he feels the sting of tears approaching.

He completely ruined one of the best relationships in his entire life because of _nothing_.

He remembers why he even _got _into that fight with Yugi in the first place.

The night before, him and his friends had been partying, and once again, everyone else had scampered off to go dance with who-knows-who leaving Ryou alone at a table. Ryou had been a little upset, naturally (and downed some alcohol to help himself feel better), so Yugi had calmly approached Ryou. He said, "If my friends did something and it bugged me, I would just talk to them about it."

Absolutely _nothing_ wrong with that statement.

It was in no way accusing.

But Ryou…

Oh, _Ryou_.

Ryou was _so_ insecure. He was so _lost_. He was so _drunk_. He was so everything that he _hated _that he completely _lost _it.

He flew up, knocked over a couple drinks on the table, hurled various profanities towards Yugi, and stormed out of the club.

The next day, _Yugi_ had come over to _apologize_.

But once again, Ryou was so insecure and _arrogant _and in denial that he blew it all out of proportion, and an apology somehow spiraled into an all out fight about life choices.

And…

…Well, Ryou doesn't need to remember the rest.

He just _saw_ it.

Ryou takes a shaky breath in and brings a hand up to his forehead.

He had made so many mistakes in his life. So many mistakes that he will never be able to fix.

_Plonk!_

Something suddenly topples to the ground on Ryou's left. Slowly, he turns his head and looks.

It's a book.

Ryou blinks.

"Whoops."

A voice comes from behind his head, and he contorts his body so that he can more clearly see the source. His eyes widen.

There, his fifteen-year-old self stands, peering through the shelf of books to the book on the ground next to Ryou's head. Quickly, he scampers around and picks up the dropped novel before placing it neatly back on the shelf.

* * *

><p>Ryou sits up.<p>

He looks around; he's at the local library.

A small smile creeps onto his face before he can help it.

This place was like his second home for so long. Books were his escape; writing was his escape; getting away from reality for quiet moments was his escape. This place was, as far as he was concerned, one of his lifelines for over ten years.

But then…he sighs because he remembers that he'll never again see this place in real life.

Something to his side suddenly stirs. Ryou's attention is diverted back to his fifteen-year-old self.

"Hm, this looks kinda cool," his younger self mummers, and Ryou notices that he's scanning the back of a new novel he picked up off of the shelf.

Ryou strains to see the title.

_Invisible Monsters._

Ryou's face breaks out into an all-out grin.

This was the day he discovered his favorite book.

_Invisible Monsters _was checked out over fifteen times by Ryou in a matter of three in a half years until he finally got the initiative to just go out and _buy _himself a copy at the local bookstore. It was his main source of angst-y inspiration for two years.

It's kind of neat to witness the day he first discovered it, Ryou decides.

His fifteen-year-old self finishes reading the summary on the back of the book. To himself, he smiles and nods, pleased. He takes a breath in and tucks the novel under his arm, and then he heads off to the checkout line.

Ryou remains seated, because he really feels no need to go follow himself.

But all of a sudden, right before his younger self walks out of earshot, he hears the familiar tone of his old cell phone begin ringing. Fifteen-year-old Ryou picks up his mobile and quickly clicks it on.

"Hey, Tarah," he greets.

Tarah. His high school girlfriend.

Ryou suddenly knows what the next memory is going to be.

* * *

><p>"This is the <em>second <em>effing time, Tarah! I just—I just…I can't _believe _you!"

Ryou is standing outside of his ex-girlfriend's house, watching his younger self and the girl fight.

He remembers this night crystal clear.

He was so unbelievably head-over-heels for Tarah. He doesn't even really know _why _know that he looks back on it. Tarah was obnoxious and fake and not even really that _pretty_. But for some godforsaken reason, Ryou was obsessed with her.

Or maybe just the _idea_ of her.

Naturally, since he was so "in love" with the girl, the first time she cheated on him, he let it slide. After all, as soon as Ryou found out, Tarah burst into "tears" (they were on the phone; her blubbering could _easily _have been fake) and began repeating over and over just how much she "_adored_" him.

Ryou took her back.

A couple months later, Ryou found himself being completely ignored. He was lucky to get a phone call from her every two and a half weeks, and she barely spoke a word to him in school. Whenever Ryou asked her about it, she blamed it on her "cheerleading" and how "her daddy doesn't want me to use my cell so much".

Ryou was so naive (or maybe in denial, Ryou can't really decide); he bought all the crap she threw at him.

One night, though, one Saturday night, Ryou decided that he wanted to go and _see _her. He sneaked out of his house and walked the twenty minutes to her home at seven o'clock in the evening on a whim.

He climbed up to her window and the first thing he saw was her with some other guy.

She happened to look towards her window at the _perfect _time, and her eyes grew wide as she saw _boyfriend _in her window watching her fool around with some other guy, mouth agape in shock. Immediately, she jumped up, and Ryou jumped _down_.

He was halfway down her yard, his heart pounding, not sure _what _to really think or feel when he heard his name,

"_Ryou_!"

And in this moment Ryou arrived to watch.

His fifteen-year-old self's eyes are blazing with fury (he finally decided _what _to feel as soon as he came face to face with the girl) as he watches Tarah stutter and try to find something to say to the cold, hard _truth_ he had just hurled in her face.

She cannot think of anything.

Ryou frowns.

His younger self just shakes his head. The fury tones down from his eyes, and instead they fill up with _pity_. He takes a breath in, exhales it tremulously, and then he speaks,

"I feel _so _bad for you."

Tarah blinks. _She_ frowns, now.

"Why?" she asks softly.

Fifteen-year-old Ryou stares at her blankly but confidently. And then out of his lips comes the most perfect thing possible…

"Because you have to live with yourself."

He walks off without another word.

* * *

><p>Ryou won't lie as he looks back on that night.<p>

He _was _devastated. He _was _miserable. He _did _feel like a worthless fool. He might not have shown it initially, but the feelings were most certainly there.

As soon as he got back home he _slammed _his door shut and _flopped_ onto his bed and inhaled shakily and started to _cry_.

Ryou now sits in the corner and watches his fifteen-year-old self shake his head and try and stop the tears. His stare is blank; he _wants _to feel bad for himself, but he won't, because now that he looks back on it, now that he' s _witnessed _it, he realizes what an _imbecile _he was for taking Tarah back and trusting her when she was so obviously horrid.

With that thought, fifteen-year-old Ryou suddenly stops his crying. He groans a little, and he wipes his eyes. Then, slowly, he leans over his bed, peers under it, reaches, and comes back up with a tattered, black notebook.

Ryou, in the corner, smiles.

_Oh_, how many thoughts were scribbled on those pages.

His younger self opens the book and grabs a pencil off of his nightstand. Quickly, he flips to a clean page and begins to scribble without another thought.

Ryou continues sitting, unseen and unheard, in the corner of his old bedroom for a few minutes, just allowing his younger self to write and write.

Ryou smiles as the memory around him slowly fades.

* * *

><p>"Ryou, this is kind of gay."<p>

Ryou can't help but let out a laugh as he watches seventeen-and-a-half year old Yugi and his eighteen-year-old self at the Makeup Counter at the mall.

His younger self is staring into the mirror on the counter, swiping some sparkly yellow eye shadow onto his upper eyelids carefully. Yugi is standing behind him awkwardly, blushing and shifting on his feet as he watches all the people that walk by and give him and Ryou odd looks.

Ryou walks over to himself and his best friend, and he hops carefully onto the clear counter. He begins to happily watch how his younger self will react.

His eighteen-year-old self just huffs. He puts down the eye shadow, examines its appearance in the mirror, and smiles a bit to himself. Then, he turns to Yugi and frowns.

"It's not _gay_. It's _unique_."

Yugi blinks.

"Nope. I'm pretty sure putting on sparkly `sunshine-yellow' eye shadow is gay, Ryou."

He shakes his head, and then he walks over to the counter to stand next to his best friend.

"So…which color do you think would look best on _me_?"

Eighteen-year-old Ryou, who had turned back to the makeup and was putting the eye shadows he had pulled out away, suddenly stops what he's doing. He turns to his best friend, hazel eyes wide. He raises an eyebrow.

"Are you…_kidding _me?" he asks disbelievingly.

Yugi laughs. He shakes his head. "Why not? You just said it yourself; this is _unique_. And besides, I've always wondered what I'd look like in makeup."

Both younger and older Ryou let out a laugh.

Ryou mentally decides that to witness these forgotten but oh-so sweet memories is _definitely_ something he will cherish.

His eighteen-year-old self takes a breath in after Yugi finishes his explanation.

"Okay, fine," he pauses, thinking. "Um…I think you're _definitely _a purple person with those eyes of yours."

Ryou turns back to the stand of makeup behind him and grabs a bright, 70s-style purple and a sparkly gray purple. He opens them, plops them down on the counter, grabs a sample brush, and turns to his friend.

"Okay, come here."

Yugi blinks.

Ryou rolls his eyes.

"Do you want me to do this or not?"

Yugi sighs. "Fine." He walks over, hops up onto the counter next to Ryou, and closes his eyes. "It's a good thing I love you so much, Ry," he murmurs, and Ryou's younger self laughs.

"You too, Yugi. Now open your eyes for a minute; I have to decide which color to use."

Yugi obeys, and for a minute, before applying anything, eighteen-year-old Ryou simply holds up the two colors to his friend's face. Finally, he announces,

"Got it. Now close your eyes and don't squirm too much or you'll look like an 80s drag queen gone wrong."

Yugi quickly closes his eyes and plants himself stone still.

Younger Ryou carefully begins to apply the makeup to his friend's eyelids, and while he does, Ryou watches, fascinated in a strange way, with a smile on his face. Snippets of conversation start up, and each time they do, Ryou can't help but chuckle at them.

"Ow, _Ryou_!"

"That didn't hurt."

"Yes it _did_!"

"No, Yugi, it _didn't_."

Silence.

"…So you're sure this isn't gay _at all_?"

"Uh…_well_…maybe a _little_."

"_Ryou_!"

"Why do you even _care_? It's the 21st century; guys can _act _gay if they want to!"

"I _know_, but—uh! It's just _weird_ for me `cause I'm like, _really _straight! Not, `kind-of-gay' or `possibly gay' or, `I'm-prettier-than-half-of-the-girls-in-this-mall-so-I-might-be-kind-of-gay' like _you _are!"

"Go die in a fire, Yugi. Go die in a fire."

(That last conversation _really _got Ryou laughing.)

"So are you going to try eyeliner on me next?"

"Maybe."

"…_Maybe_? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means maybe."

"You suck, Ryou."

"You too, Yugi."

_Finally_, the makeup application is done. Eighteen-year-old Ryou steps back to admire his work, a proud smile on his face.

"There. I'm done. Check it out," Younger Ryou says, and Yugi opens his eyes, blinks a few times, and then turns to see himself in the mirror.

Ryou strains to watch his friend's reaction.

Yugi simply stares blankly for a few moments, and then a small, _small _smile creeps onto his face and he whispers,

"…I like it."

Eighteen-year-old Ryou beams. "I knew you would. You can't deny that the color looks great on you."

Yugi blinks, and his smile disappears. He flies up, turns, and points accusingly at his best friend.

"Gay! _Gay_! Ryou, you are _gay_! Gay as a goose, I _swear _it!"

Both Ryou's burst into laughter.

Yugi shakes his head. "Let's just pay for your liquid eyeliner and get _out_ of here already."

Younger Ryou nods. "'Kay. You sure you don't wanna buy any of the eye shadow?"

Yugi scoffs. "Yeah _right_. If my family found it I'd never hear the _end _of it. For now, I think I'll remain a closet, part-time makeup wearer."

Eighteen-year-old Ryou chuckles. "Okay," he pauses. "…But, you _do_ like it, right?"

Ryou frowns. There's a hopeful, almost sad tone to his younger self's voice, but he can't quite figure out _why_. He figures it's just that ever-annoying, ever-present insecurity of his.

Yugi must notice this as well, because he gets a warm smile on his face and immediately answers,

"I do. I wouldn't lie to you; I think it actually looks really neat."

Eighteen-year-old Ryou smiles back. "Thanks. Now, let's get going."

Ryou turns to watch his younger self and Yugi pay for the eyeliner at the register, and he blinks as he watches what suddenly happens.

Out of Ryou's jacket pocket falls a piece of notebook paper. Yugi reaches down, helpfully picking it up, until he actually _opens_ it. Then, he stops mid-action as his eyes widen.

"God…Ryou, you drew this?"

Ryou strains to see what is decorating the paper.

All across the lined sheet, with a dark, dark ink pen, Ryou had drawn his signature "makeup art." Bats, swirls, trees, moons…all of it was drawn across the paper. Here and there Ryou had also taken some shiny, sparkling blue-gray, black, silver, and violet paint and splashed night sky color and stars. It truly _was_ a lovely, unique piece of art.

Ryou suddenly remembers that it was around this time that he first began experimenting with makeup and such. He would do little sketches in his notebook with paint and ink pen or practice with eyeliner and other makeup products when he was alone.

His younger self suddenly spots what Yugi is looking at, and his face flushes bright red. Immediately, he grabs the sheet of his best friend's hand and stuffs it into his pocket.

"I-it's nothing. I was just messing around last night; got bored," he mummers, and looks away awkwardly.

Yugi frowns.

"What are you so worked up for? It's not like it _sucks _or anything. It's really amazing, actually; and it's a _drawing_. No big deal. You're an artist."

His younger self glares half-heartedly at Yugi. "I just didn't want anyone to see it. It was just something I did last night `cause I was staying late at school and got bored; it's nothing special. I'd thrown it into my jacket pocket `cause there was nowhere else to put it. I was planning on throwing it away, anyway."

Yugi stares at his friend, blinking in disbelief; once again, his best friend is overwhelming negative and self-conscious.

Really, it's even driving _Ryou _crazy, and it's _himself_.

Eighteen-year-old Ryou grabs his bag of recently purchased liquid eyeliner and begins walking out of the store with a mumbled,

"C'mon. There're some new CDs out at the music place I wanna check out."

But before the two best friends leave the store fully, Ryou watches as his younger self pulls out the piece of notebook paper from his pocket, crumples it up, and throws it into the nearest trash can.

* * *

><p>Eighteen-year-old Ryou sits at the piano bench in his old apartment and plays a chord on the keyboard resting in front of him. The sound resonates throughout the room, and he pauses for a moment.<p>

Ryou stands in the corner near the light, arms crossed, watching. His younger self is playing music.

It's been so long since he remembers himself being so…_truthful_ and really _happy _when playing music.

He sighs, and he moves and sits down on the tattered, old couch next to him. Once he's sprawled out onto the floppy cushions, he takes the liberty and starts to look around, remembering this time in his life as he takes in the surroundings.

The walls of the apartment are paint chipped and peeling. They're colored a depressing, drab gray; the off-white, unappealing carpets are torn and Ryou _smells_ the dust and mold. There's very little furniture, and several sleeping bags are piled into one corner by the porch door (It wasn't really a porch, even, Ryou remembers. It was more like two-by-four feet of splinter-filled, creaky wood that nobody ever really went out on, anyway.)

This was the apartment he shared with Bakura, Yugi and Yami.

Ryou smiles despite himself.

He remembers how disgusting and depressing the place was to live in, but he remembers how he and the guys were just thankful to even have a place to go home to at night.

He remembers how many packs of Ramen noodles were devoured and how many silly games of Truth or Dare were played.

He remembers how he grew closer with every single one of the guys and learned a lot about them while living in the unpleasant conditions.

He remembers how _humble_ he used to be; how he always hated the idea of being selfish and reckless.

Ryou swallows.

Oh, how things changed.

His eighteen-year-old stops playing as he hears his cellphone ring, and promptly looks at the caller ID.

Ryou watches.

Younger Ryou then leans back in his chair and chucks his pencil down on the ground. He runs his hands through his long-ish white hair and his face breaks out into a small grin.

Ryou can't help, as he is watching, to let his _own _face break out into a smile as his younger self answers with an enthusiasic "Hello? Hey, Bakura...no, I'm at home...yeah, fine!"

Ryou suddenly feels a stab of pain in his heart. His stomach drops, and he feels tears threaten the back of his eyes.

_Bakura_.

Oh, _Bakura_.

Ryou closes his eyes and listens as the person on the other line of the phone rants in his monotonous, husky voice about who-knows-what, and his eighteen-year-old self smiles even more.

Then, there's a pause.

"Okay. Cool. Yeah, just get back here as soon as you can. Bye!"

He hangs up, and Ryou opens his eyes just in time to see his younger self just stand there in the middle of the room.

He smiles to himself, and then he walks off.

Ryou continues to sit on the couch for a moment.

He remembers that feeling.

_Happiness_.

Ryou really misses that.


	6. The Walrus And The Carpenter

**AN**: I'm actually early with posting this chapter! HIGH FIVE ON THAT :D Once again thanks for all the amazing reviews you special folk.

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p><em>five: the walrus and the carpenter<em>

* * *

><p>"Say `cheese!'"<p>

"Joey, do you _really _have to take a picture of me first thing in the morning?"

Ryou is suddenly sitting on his sofa. He remembers that sofa. It was a purplish color and really quite comfy. Bakura adored it.

It's eight in the morning (Ryou can see that from the clock on the microwave), and Joey Wheeler is sitting at the table, a bowl of Frosted Flakes in front of him along with a mug full of coffee. In his hands is the new professional camera he bought the day before, and he's already snapped who-knows-how many pictures of scenery they encountered, and, of course, himself and his friends.

Ryou smiles.

Joey always adored photography. He's loved it ever since Ryou met him when he was eight years old. He never wanted to make it a profession, but it was always a hobby he loved. He carried a camera with him and took pictures almost all the time. The photos were funny, candid, occasionally beautiful, and Ryou adored them.

However, Joey sometimes went a bit _too _overboard with his photography and often times annoyed his friends by snapping pictures of them at very awkward moments, such as when they came out of the bathroom after a shower with nothing but a towel on (he always threatened to put those on the Internet where everyone could easily access them), when they had a mouthful of a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, or when they had _just _awoken from a nap or a night's sleep and didn't look the most lovely.

That last scenario was the case with this particular memory.

Nineteen-year-old Ryou comes into view. His younger self's hair is messily disheveled from sleep, his leftover eyeliner is smudged, and he's wearing a purple, tight, v-neck shirt.

His younger self yawns and sluggishly pulls out a chair at the table across from Joey. He grabs the cereal box and peers in.

"Leave any for me?" he groggily asks, and Joey laughs a little as he fiddles with his camera.

"Yup. Sure did. And make sure _you_ leave some for Bakura. You know how he gets without his morning dose of sugary cereal," he answers, and younger Ryou nods.

Joey puts down his camera onto the table. "I deleted the picture."

Ryou smiles softly and begins pouring milk over the Frosted Flakes. "You didn't have to. I wasn't _really_ annoyed."

Joey shrugs and picks up his coffee mug. He leans back in his chair and takes a sip. "Well it was a sucky picture anyway. You looked kind of crazy with your hair sticking up and all."

Ryou laughs, but his younger self frowns. "Whatever."

There's a comfortable silence at the table as Joey continues to drink his coffee and Ryou begins to slowly eat his breakfast. Then, Joey sighs happily.

"Y'know what? I _love_ this, Ry, getting to hang out with you guys. Don't ever change."

And just like that, the memory is over.

* * *

><p>Ryou is watching his almost-ten-year old self sit curled up in the corner of a bathroom.<p>

He's dressed in a typical Ryou outfit—a light blue v-neck t-shirt with jeans. His hair falls over his hazel eyes as it always did.

But there's something about himself that is a bit off.

He's shaking.

He's shaking, and there are tears _rolling _down his cheeks.

His stick-thin hands are wrapped around his stick-thin knees that are pulled up to his barely-there chest and stomach, and he's pale and shivering while sobbing.

Obviously, something is up.

Ryou frowns.

All of a sudden, the eerily quiet atmosphere is broken as there is a shuffling behind Ryou at the bathroom door. Ryou turns and sees Yugi and Joey standing there, a look of utter pity, sympathy, and sadness on their faces. Joey's beloved camera hangs neglected from his neck, un-used for the time being. He leans against the door frame, takes a quiet breath in, closes his eyes for a moment, and says,

"I am so sorry. Your mom was an amazing person, Ryou."

Ryou blinks.

_This was the day he found out his mother died._

Him and his friends were going to have a sleepover that night.

He remembers feeling kind of bad for spoiling all the fun.

Almost-ten-year-old Ryou doesn't look at Joey and only closes his eyes shut and leans his head against the wall next to him. He tucks his shaking bottom lip under his top one, and he takes a trembling, breaking breath in and nods in acknowledgment.

Yugi stands there at the doorway with Joey watching his best friend curled up on the tiled floor crying for a few seconds more.

Then he opens his mouth.

"It's hard right now, Ryou, I know that. It's okay to feel bad. But I swear it _will_ be okay." There's silence because younger Ryou doesn't react to his words, so Yugi continues. "I'll be here for you, Ryou. Joey will be here for you, too. If you need any little thing, whether it's a good joke or to see a picture of a sunset Joey's taken or to just _talk _or _cry_ we'll be right here, okay?"

There's silence.

Joey and Yugi are so amazing, and Ryou's really going to miss those guys.

* * *

><p>"Joey is <em>so <em>going to get it next time we have a water balloon fight!"

"We're going to have _another one_?"

Nineteen and eighteen-year-old Yugi and Ryou tumble into the house from the intense summer heat outside, dressed in bathing suits and soaking wet t-shirts. They're both laughing hysterically, joy and fun radiating from them, and Ryou watches from the corner and _really_ wishes he could be that happy again.

Yugi pulls off his t-shirt and throws it onto the couch. He heads to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder,

"I call shower first!"

Ryou moves the soaking article of clothing that was just tossed down out of his way and plops onto the sofa. He nods. "Sure. I don't care."

Yugi pauses before he walks all the way into the bathroom. He laughs a little, and says,

"Make sure Bakura doesn't eat the last grape Popsicle!"

Younger Ryou busts out laughing as Yugi disappears fully into the room.

About ten minutes pass, and nineteen-year-old Ryou changes into some dry clothes, throws his soaked ones into his suitcase, and walks to the freezer to grab the grape frozen treat previously mentioned by his best friend before a rather sugar-addicted Bakura can get to it.

Finally, Yugi saunters out of the bathroom in a new set of clothes, hair wet and steam following him.

He exhales in content. Younger Ryou is back on the couch, quickly eating a cherry Popsicle, and when Yugi joins him he offers his friend the grape one. Yugi laughs gratefully and takes it.

For a couple minutes, the two longtime friends just sit in silence, happily eating their frozen treats, staring off into space. Finally, Yugi speaks,

"Do you remember that time when we were twelve and accidentally put the wrong chemicals in Mrs. Adam's pool?"

"You mean that was an _accident_?"

Yugi bursts into laughter. "_Shut up_, Ryou!" he exclaims and playfully pushes his friend, all the while with a smile on his face.

Ryou laughs in reply for a moment. Then, his face falls a bit; he's suddenly more solemn. He leans his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling, finishing up the last of his cherry Popsicle. "We've had so many amazing times together," he finally whispers softly.

Yugi watches him and frowns with his words. "And we'll have many more to come!" he quickly replies and offers his best friend a comforting smile.

The world starts to fade.

* * *

><p>Ryou knew it was coming.<p>

He had seen memories with Joey.

He had watched moments with Yugi.

It only made sense that Bakura was next.

Ryou _really_ wishes, though, that he could have had (if he couldn't completely _avoid _it altogether) more time to _prepare_ himself, so to speak, for Bakura.

After all…

…Bakura and him had the most…_whirlwind_ relationship of them all.

Ryou remembers when they first met.

It was _jealousy_ and _insecurity_ and _naivety_ and a little bit of _awe _on _both _ends.

Then, slowly, as they both became more comfortable with each other…

…It just clicked.

The two were polar opposites.

Bakura: confident, slightly awkward but in an adorable, endearing way, talented, sarcastic, witty, and fearless.

Ryou: shy, occasionally self-deprecating, awkward but in a pitiful, "that-poor-kid-has-no-idea-_what_-to-do-with-himself" kind of way, "off-and-on" talented, quiet, turn-offish at first glance, and hesitant.

But, like the old saying goes:

Opposites attract.

The two were new best friends. They were both eager to learn more about one another and spend time with each other, and they most certainly _did_.

By the end of the Summer when Ryou turned 17 rolled around, the two were so close that people wondered if they were even _gay _for one another.

Ryou blushes at the thought.

That was always a…_touchy _topic concerning his and Bakura's relationship.

Ryou never really thought he was gay.

He always had an interest in girls. Even if it was Tarah, who was a complete whore, he was still interested in _girls_. Never before in his life had he ever been into _boys_ before. He had no idea what that was even supposed to _feel _like.

So of course, when the rumors started rolling, Ryou was taken very much by surprise. It didn't help when he actually started _thinking _on the topic either, because…

…What he was feeling for Bakura, he…he hadn't felt for anyone else in his entire life before.

With his mom it was a family love. Natural. A bond of blood.

With Yugi it was a bond of "you're-my-best-friend", "I-know-everything-about-you- and-trust-you-completely", "I've-known-you-for-so-long-you're-like-family" love.

With Joey it was "you-are-such-a-totally-cool-amazing-person-I-really-look-up-to-and-enjoy-being-around" love.

With _Bakura_…

With Bakura it was "I-can't-believe-_I_-actually-met-someone-like-_you_-are-you-for-real?-you're-so-amazing-and-talented-I-wish-I-could-be-like-you-I-want-to -be-around-you-_all_-the-time-you-make-me-feel-so-_safe_-and-_happy_-you're-so-confident-and-daring-and-funny-and-_true_-and_ WOW_-I'd-do-anything-for-you-and-please-don't-ever-leave-me-this-is-so-mind-blowing-`cause -I-think-you-mean-more-to-me-than-_anyone_-_else_-in-the-_world_."

Of course, with all that rushing through his head, Ryou wasn't sure about the whole "more-than-friends" thing.

So _what_ if Bakura made Ryou feel like he was on a permanent high? So _what_ if Bakura made Ryou feel better and more confident with himself than ever before? So _what _if every time Bakura came around it was like fireworks that blew Ryou out of his element?

_That _didn't mean anything.

To be "gay" you had to technically be physically attracted to a male, right?  
>And Ryou wasn't…<p>

…Well, it wasn't like he didn't think Bakura was _attractive_.

Ryou laughs at the mere thought.

Oh no, that wasn't it at _all_.

In fact, Ryou always thought Bakura was _gorgeous_.

Even from the very first time he saw Bakura when he was a lanky, awkward seventeen-year-old to when he was a lean, nicely toned, sexy twenty-year-old, Ryou always thought Bakura was blessed with good looks.

He had that pure white hair (like Ryou's, but Ryou always liked Bakura's better) that was always styled in a way that managed to look messy _and_ elegant. He had those big, sharp, dark chocolate brown eyes. He had that not-too-big-not-too-skinny body that could be toned just _right_ that Ryou always wanted (His own twiggy skinniness often got on his nerves). He had that sexy, deep, husky voice. And most of all…

…He had those _lips_.

Ryou admits that a lot of times he remembers catching himself just _staring _at Bakura's mouth.

Soft, pink lips.

And sometimes, just _sometimes _Ryou wondered (and _still_ wonders) what they might…_feel_ like.

But, of course, _none _of this was "gay".

It was normal to think all of that about your best friend, right?

So, Ryou concluded, in the end, that he had no feelings _whatsoever_ for Bakura.

Then of course, there was the question not of his _own_ feelings, but of _Bakura's _feelings.

In the back of his mind, ever since he and Bakura first starting getting close, Ryou had this little inkling of a thought that maybe Bakura was…gay.

He had never had a girlfriend when he first met Ryou.

Now, it wasn't _that _big of a deal, but when he finally _did _get his first girlfriend (Ryou can't even remember her name) he broke up with her rather quickly because of some "stressful stuff".

Soon after the break up, Ryou watched patiently for his best friend to get a new girl.

Nothing happened.

Months passed.

Bakura was around so many willing, attractive girls _every__ night_. Not to mention the fact that Bakura himself was such a great guy. Ryou figured that he could _easily _find someone.

But no.

Months and months passed, and finally, during the summer of next year, Ryou asked Bakura about his love life and why it was so…dull.

Bakura had paused in what he was doing (If Ryou remembers correctly, the boy was stuffing gummi worms into his mouth and watching _The Lion King_), stared wordlessly in front of him, and blinked.

Ryou had felt like shooting himself for bringing up the topic.

But before Ryou had the chance to try and patch up his mistake and change the subject, Bakura spoke. His voice was surprisingly casual and truthful.

"I just…I'm not really interested, right now."

A perfectly acceptable statement.

But the only thing that bugged Ryou was the fact that Bakura never _tried_ to get involved with girls (as far as he knew, at least) and spent so much time with just _Ryou_.

He never made an effort to try and start dating again; it was always, "Hey Ryou, wanna come over?" or "Ryou, I'm bored. Can I come hang out and play Guitar Hero with you?" or "Hey Ryou, wanna go to the park and then grab something to eat?"

Ryou just let it all slide, of course. He kept telling himself it was just because he and Bakura were so close, and Bakura obviously felt the most happy and comfortable with him, his best friend.

But at the back of his mind there was always that teeny, tiny wondering of whether or not Bakura felt for him as more than a friend.

And for some reason…that scared him more than anything else in the world.

That would mean that their relationship would get awkward. That would mean Ryou would lose that comfort and utter joy he felt with Bakura. That would mean everything that kept Ryou sane would crumble apart.

In some twisted way, Ryou thought that by slowly but steadily distancing himself from Bakura he would save their friendship.

Boy, did _that _backfire on him.

The two just grew farther apart. More so than Ryou had first intended for. Bakura kept trying to hang on, but Ryou had gotten into the habit of just pulling and pulling away. Finally, Bakura had taken the hint (even though it wasn't really a hint).

The two were just "best friends", but they weren't "_best _friends" like before. They weren't "I-would-_die-_for-you-you're-the-only-person-I-trust-in-the-world" best friends like before.

Now, they were just typical "best friends".

It wasn't the same magic of Ryou and Bakura any longer.

It hurt Bakura; Ryou could see that. Bakura was mopy and awkward and sad for a while, and he avoided Ryou for a few months. After a few months, though, Bakura hopped back into being "Bakura".

Ryou tried to pretend the _entire_ time that it didn't bug him, even though it tore him apart every night to know that he completely ruined the best relationship of his life. He didn't show it, though. He just got bitter and uncaring.

Bakura eventually got fed up with Ryou's negative attitude, and the two began to not get along. That killed Ryou even _more_, so he just got more and more angry and passive to everything. He started drinking and partying and _disappointing_. And…

…And the rest is history.

* * *

><p>R&amp;R<p> 


	7. A-Sitting On a Gate

**AN**: I'm a bit late with this chapter D: My once-a-week update schedule is ruined! Ah well, here's the next chapter. FORGIVE ME.

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><p>PAINT THE ROSES <strong>RED<strong>

* * *

><p><em>six: a-sitting on a gate<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Ryoooou<em>!"

Ryou, twenty years old and absolutely _exhausted_, presses "pause" on his iPod and slowly opens his eyes.

"_What_, Bakura?"

Bakura, is standing in front of him, arms folded. He looks so adorable; there's a pout on his face, his long-ish white hair hanging a bit in his eyes, styled in that messy way loves so much.

"I'm _bored_!" he whines childishly.

Twenty-year-old Ryou licks his lips and stares.

Then, he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the bright orange airport terminal chair he's seated in.

"Sorry, 'Kura," he half-says, half-yawns, "But I can't do anything. Our flight got delayed for a few hours and that's that."

Bakura groans loudly. Very loudly. _Too_ loudly. (People around the boys actually turn and stare.)

"But I'm _bored_!" Bakura insists, eyes growing wide with indignation. He clenches his hands into fists and starts huffing about, stomping and flailing his arms.

Ryou watches his past self and Bakura from the corner and smiles.

Oh, how those "Bakura tantrums" frustrated him so.

His younger self, who had been tuning out both the bustling, loud airport terminal _and_ his best friend with music realizes in that moment that not even his iPod can drown out Bakura's recently begun, loud, incessant chanting of,

"I'MBOREDI'MBOREDI'MBOREDI'MBOREDI'M_BORED", s_o Ryou snaps,

"_Well_, why don't you go visit Joey or _Yugi_, then?"

Bakura shuts up, and for a few sweet moments, Ryou thinks he might have stopped the ridiculous behavior.

But he thought too soon.

For in a mere second, Bakura's angular brown eyes blink several times, and he whines,

"But they're gone to go talk with the airport people about our _flight_! They left _forever_ ago, but you're too obsessed with that iPod of yours to _notice_! I'm stuck with you for the next _hour_!"

Ryou lets out a groan and throws his head back, wincing a little as he whacks it too hard, in his frustration, against the glass window behind him.

_Curse_ the fact that the fpur friends had decided to plan a vacation together, one which had to be 16 hours away from their current location, thus forcing the boys to take a plane, and _curse_ the fact that the flight was delayed for three  
>hours because of "mechanical reasons", and <em>curse<em> the fact that Joey and Yugi went off to go check up on the progress of the flight and left a very bored/fidgety Bakura and a very _exhausted_ him alone together!

Bakura watches with a frown, annoyed at his friend's annoyance, until suddenly, as his attention is diverted to the outside world, his eyes widen and he whispers out in awe,

"Ryou..._look_."

Ryou rolls his eyes, expecting to see some sort of bird or maybe a really up-close airplane outside the window, but when he does turn to take a peek, he realizes what Bakura was so blown away by.

Outside is the most _phenomenal_ sunset he's ever seen in his life.

The wide, clear expanse that is the airport's take-off space stretches far, clear into the distance, covered in sunset shadows, and on the horizon is the setting, wild, tangerine sun itself. Around it radiates colors of fluorescent turquoise, gold, shining yellow, rose and peach pink...

...Ryou's jaw falls open a little bit.

"Wow...that's...that's beautiful," he manages to get out, his voice breathy and soft.

All of a sudden, he feels a rustle next to him, and he turns.

Bakura is frowning slightly still, but seems to have calmed down a bit, cross-legged in the chair next to Ryou. His arms are folded across his chest. He sighs.

"I'll just sit here until Joey and Yugi come. I know you're tired, and I don't want to get you all worked up because you get all pissy."

Ryou's mouth immediately twists in distaste as frustration and irritation wells up deep in his chest. "A little late for _that_, 'Kura," he snaps, "You've already woken me up from _two_ naps in the past _hour_!"

Bakura frowns.

"God. I'm just trying to be _nice_."

With that, the white-haired boy curls up, tucking his legs to his chest, turning his back on Ryou and pulling his hood over his head. He nuzzles into his arm, closing his eyes, trying to get comfortable in the _un_comfortable seat.

An awkward silence arises, and Ryou watches in the corner with a smirk as he notices his younger self is _rather_ uncomfortable.

That oh-so-lovely emotion by the name of "guilt" has reared its ugly head, and twenty-year-old Ryou lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Bakura..."

Bakura doesn't move.

Ryou rolls his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm just really cranky. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Silence.

Oh, Ryou _hated_ how Bakura enjoyed these apologies so much.

Since it was always _Bakura_ getting in trouble or saying something before thinking about it and hurting Ryou's feelings, Bakura rarely ever got to hear _Ryou_ apologize, but on those few occasions the boy did offer his 'sorry', Bakura was beaming. The tables had been turned, and Bakura _loved_ it in a twisted, immature sort of way.

Finally, Bakura turns a bit and peers open one eye at his best friend. He raises an eyebrow and says almost inaudibly,

"Apology accepted."

Ryou lets a small smile creep onto his face, and he replies, "Good. Now, get some rest so I can too!"

Bakura lets out a deep, throaty chuckle, and Ryou watches in the corner and feels his heart flutter at the noise.

"Okay," Bakura whispers, and then he rests his head against his arm  
>and closes his eyes again.<p>

It's quiet now, and Younger Ryou's a bit surprised by the suddenly toned-down atmosphere. He was so _used_ to Bakura's continual fidgitey-ness that is seemed suddenly so _odd_ to not hear the boy blabbering or see him flailing about.

Regardless, Ryou soon learns to adapt to the strangeness, and he leans his own head back against the chair, presses "play" on his iPod, and feels himself gently drifting off within seconds.

"Guys? Guys, where are you?"

"There're over here, Yugi."

Yugi and Joey, exhausted and ready to get onto the plane and get _going_ already, saunter over to the row of airport terminal seats their friends are rested in.

Ryou's eyes widen in the corner, and he realizes that, in the blink of an eye, time had moved forward. Time had moved forward at _least_ an hour, and Joey and Yugi were back from talking with the airport staff about the flight.  
>It was time to go.<p>

Joey and Yugi stop in front of Bakura and Ryou's seats, and two small, knowing smiles arise on their faces.

"Aww," Joey whispers, laughing a little and nudging Yugi in the side.

Yugi just rolls his purple eyes, chuckles, and says,

"C'mon, let's just wake them up and get out of here."

Ryou turns his gaze to where his younger self and Bakura are snoozing, and his own face breaks into a grin.

Both the boys are sound asleep. Bakura is completely curled up to Ryou, softly holding Ryou's arm with his head on Ryou's shoulder, hair falling in his eyes, chest slowly rising up and down. Ryou is completely unaware of his best friend nuzzled up to him, and he simply remains with his head against the cool window behind him, iPod still turned on  
>in his hands.<p>

It is such a special, un-special moment.

The closeness between Ryou and Bakura was nothing new; it happened all the time. Whether it revealed itself in hand-holds, hugs, or falling asleep in each other's laps, it wasn't surprising to anyone at all, really, and _especially_ not to Bakura and Ryou.

But now, for some reason, as Ryou watches this memory, he realizes just how truly _unusual_ (unusual and _beautiful_) the relationship he had with Bakura was. He never thought anything of it when it was naturally occuring, but now that he looks back on it, he and Bakura did have a rather..._extraordinary_ relationship.

Yugi reaches down and gently shakes Ryou. "Guys...wake up. The plane's getting ready to leave in a little."

Ryou grumbles something that sounds faintly like, "Five more minutes," but Yugi's not sure, so he just keeps shaking the boy until his eyes fly open and he says,

"_What_?"

Joey lets out a soft laugh, and he puts a finger up to his lips, smirking. "Shhh...you'll wake Sleeping Beauty..."

Youger Ryou, utterly confused, raises an eyebrow. He turns his gaze to the right, and as soon as he catches sight of his best friend cuddled up to him, his face melts into a gorgeous, adoring smile.

Ryou stands in the corner and wonders how no one ever _saw_ it.

How no one ever saw just how much Bakura and Ryou _really_ meant to one another.

His younger self slowly reaches up and lightly brushes some strands of hair out of Bakura's eyes, the smile still on his face, his hazel eyes carefully watching the younger boy as he peacefully rests. "He moved, I guess..." he starts in a hushed voice, "He wasn't like this when I first fell asleep..."

But then Ryou notices the side looks that Joey and Yugi give to each other, the knowing, slightly-teasing smirks, and Ryou thinks that maybe, _maybe _someone finally _did_ catch on.

Which is quite a relief, because Ryou was hoping _someone_ would, considering that fact that neither Bakura or _himself_ seemed to realize anything. (Except he thinks that maybe he _did_ and just didn't want to  
><em>admit<em> it.)

Yugi lets out a breath and runs his hands through his hair. Outside, it's getting darker by the minute.

"Okay, guys, seriously. Time to get going..."

Joey nods firmly, and he reaches forward to wake up the boy until Ryou shakes his head and interrupts,

"No. I'll do it. You guys go ahead and get moving."

Joey blinks, and Yugi blinks, but both of them understand right away. Joey nods, and then he and Yugi start off towards the gate for their flight without another word.

Younger Ryou turns back to Bakura and gently begins to shake him. He whispers into his ear,

"Hey,'Kura, time to get going..."

Bakura lets out an elongated whine and curls closer into Ryou.

Ryou laughs a little and rolls his eyes.

"'Kura seriously, we have to go."

Bakura finally opens his eyes; they flutter, and then he sets them on Ryou. They're tired and filled with leftover dreams but Ryou still thinks they're so  
>beautiful.<p>

The boy licks his chapped lips, takes a breath in, and whispers back,

"Do we _have_ to?"

Ryou laughs. "We do. We waited over five hours for this plane, so let's just get on it already! Besides, you can go to sleep again once we get on."

Bakura sighs, but he slowly stands up, letting go of Ryou's arm, and Ryou resists the urge to frown as he feels Bakura's warmth leave him.

The boy stretches, yawning, and Ryou sluggishly gets up as well. The two grab their bags that had been stuffed under their chairs, and they start off to board their flight.

But before they leave the area where Ryou is standing and watching, Ryou gets  
>to hear one last snippet of their conversation,<p>

"I hope your seat's next to mine," Bakura says, "'Cause you're a really good pillow."

Ryou doesn't exactly know _how_ he knows it, but he just _knows _that the minute he arrives at the next memory, it's the last one of him and Bakura for a long time.

For some reason, that breaks his heart, which is probably why he arrives at the new scene with tears rolling down his cheeks.

He doesn't want to have to say good-bye to Bakura a second time.

The stage is set for this last memory.

It is dark, except for the moonlight that streams in from the windows of their shared apartment. The light casts everything in a haunting, magical, blue sort of glow.

It is silent but for Joey's occasional snores.

There's a sense in the atmosphere—a sense of tragedy, of pain, of loss.

Ryou can just _tell._

Everybody is asleep.

Or so Ryou thinks.

Because suddenly, faintly, Ryou hears shuffling of blankets.

His eyes immediately fly to his right, and his old bed comes into view. He walks over, gently, quietly, (even though he can't be heard in the first place, he still feels like he needs to be quiet so that he doesn't ruin this precious, almost _fragile_ atmosphere). He peers in, and he has to look very closely because of the darkness.

His younger self is swaddled in blankets, looking positively perplexed.

Ryou bites his lower lip and tries to remember _why_.

But before he has a chance to figure it out, his younger self sits up. He sits up, and he sits there for moments, not saying a word, staring straight-forward, as if he's contemplating deeply on something.

Then, carefully, he scoots out of the bed.

He walks through Ryou (since Ryou's a ghost and all), and walks to the bedroom across from his.

Ryou watches and his heart pounds because he remembers what this memory is.

His younger self crouches down a little and takes a deep, shivering breath in as he waits outside of Bakura's closed door.

He reaches forward and pulls the door open.

Bakura is curled up in the corner of his own bunk, listening to a song, the iPod's artifical glow casting brilliant light and shadows on his face and the world around him.

Younger Ryou bites his lower lip.

Bakura suddenly looks up. He immediately yanks his headphones out of his ears.

"Ryou?" he says, blinking, his gaze fixed only on Ryou.

He stuffs his iPod away to give his full attention to his best friend.

Without a word, Ryou crawls into Bakura's bunk, crawls into Bakura's arms, buries his face into Bakura's shirt, and holds him.

And at this moment, this memory...

Ryou was safe with Bakura.

Bakura didn't care if Ryou was introverted. Bakura didn't care if Ryou hated himself sometimes. Bakura didn't care if Ryou hated _him _sometimes. Bakura didn't care that Ryou locked himself in his house and room for hours and didn't come out. Bakura didn't care that Ryou rarely ever returned phone calls and didn't like to go out and would rather sit inside and read books.

Bakura didn't _care._

Bakura loved Ryou regardless of all his flaws.

Regardless of the fact that Ryou needed _comfort_.

So Ryou went to the only place he knew he could be safe no matter what—Bakura's arms.

Bakura's _love_.

And that was all that he needed as he sat there that night.

Ryou blinks and it's daytime.

Mid-morning, actually.

He's still standing in front of Bakura's bedroom, but now the door is closed and it's silent. Sunbeams are shining through the house, casting everything in clear, tangerine shades.

It's really rather beautiful.

Ryou suddenly hears footsteps behind him and looks.

Yugi is walking in and calls over his shoulder,

"Yeah, I'm getting him up and asking him now!"

He walks right through Ryou and gently pulls open Bakura's door,  
>almost-too-loudly questioning,<p>

"Hey, Bakura, have you seen Ry—?"

He blinks and a smile comes onto his face—soft and grateful—cutting off his  
>own sentence.<p>

Ryou and Bakura lie, curled into the corner of Bakura's bed, Ryou's face pressed deep into Bakura's chest, eyes closed. Bakura's hands are closely, comfortingly, protectively wrapped around his best friend, his cheek resting atop Ryou's head. The orange-y, dull glow of the morning sunlight streams in through the curtain Yugi holds open and casts them in a magical glow.

It's perfect.

Yugi turns, still smiling.

Joey walks in, now, a curious look on his face. "Find them?" he asks.

Yugi nods, his eyes glowing.

"Found them."


	8. Why Is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?

**AN**: I'm so sorry this chapter is so late! The entire upstairs of my house is being replastered so the computer is temporarily put away...I'm having to make do with my friend's laptop xD Anyway, sorry if I'm a bit slow on updates for a couple of weeks. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p><em>seven: why is a raven like a writing desk?<em>

* * *

><p>Ryou's sitting in a room.<p>

He's alone.

The room is white. _All_ white. Kind of like those rooms you see in the movies that are supposed to represent heaven or something. (How very _ironic_.)

There's a TV in front of him.

It's on, but there's nothing to watch; it's all static.

The loud, non-stop, buzzing noise is getting annoying. And so is the loneliness, quite frankly.

Ryou figures it's this friggin' afterlife messing with his head, again.

_PFFFFT...BZZZZT..._

All of a sudden, Ryou starts hearing things.

Snippets, tiny sounds...a woman's voice.

And all of a sudden, the TV flashes to a network. It's the news. The headline reads:

**TWO DEAD IN TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT.**

Ryou feels a rush of horror and misery.

Obviously, the past is over, and now it's time for the _present_.

"In local news," the woman begins, her voice sounding like every cliche newscaster, "Two men lost their lives in a tragic car accident early this morning. From what little information we've received, the two young men were driving home from a club at about 3:30 this morning when there was a head on collision with another driver, who is now in hospital but in a stable condition. There was no word if the boys or the other driver was intoxicated. We'll update you on this tragic story as soon as we find out more."

With that, the TV snaps off. They may have never released the names of the two 'tragic car accident' victims, but Ryou _knows_ that the newscaster was talking about him and Bakura.

The lighting in the room is dim.

Ryou squints to see where he has arrived.

He is sitting on a carpeted ground in a very familiar room, in front of a writing desk. There are various paintings on the light blue walls. Some are of gardens, others of seascapes, and all the furniture in the room is cherry oak. It is the Mutous' home office (which for so many years was "off limits" to young and reckless Ryou and Yugi), and it is quite lovely.

What a pity there's such a sense of tragedy in the air.

Ryou looks around for someone, _anyone_.

Immediately, he catches sight of his best friend sitting at the writing desk, his normally gorgeous violet eyes clouded and puffy red. He is writing something viciously, until suddenly, he stops.

He just sits there for a moment, the single desk light illuminating his features and the room around him. Then, he bursts into tears.

They start _rolling_ down his face in a sort of tragically beautiful way, and Ryou's jaw drops open a little bit.

Yugi crumbles forward, and he folds his arms across the desk and hides his head in them and _sobs_.

It goes on like this for what seems like hours but is really only minutes at the most, with Yugi's crumpled form shaking with cries and Ryou sitting there, mouth ajar, dumbfounded, no idea how to react.

Finally, someone else walks into the room.

It's Mrs Mutou, Yugi's mom and Ryou's "might-as-well-be" mom.

She is carrying a steaming mug of some sort of beverage, and she is dressed in a light blue, fluffy bathrobe, slippers on her feet. Her hair is a bit messy and she looks very, _very_ tired.

"Yugi, I brought you some coff—" she starts, her voice soft and sweet but exhausted. Suddenly, her sentence is cut off and her face crumbles with pity and sympathy as she sees her son sobbing, "Oh, _Yugi_!" she cries, running forward  
>and embracing him, putting the coffee mug off to the side of the desk. "Yugi, oh <em>sweetie<em>, it's okay...shhh..."

The mother and son sit there for moments, Yugi sobbing and sobbing, head still in his arms, and Mrs. Mutou holding him close, tears slipping down her _own _cheeks.

Finally, _finally_, Yugi's cries quiet and he just leans into his mother and his mother rocks him gently back and forth. No words are passed between the two.

Ryou just sits there, knees to chest, hazel eyes wide, not believing that _he_ is the one that is causing this.

Yugi finally speaks; his voice is cracked and filled with sobs. "I-I-I just can't believe I-I-I'm sitting here planning his friggin' _funeral_, Mom..."

Ryou gets a jolt of shock as he hears those words. He _knows_ he's dead, but s_till_...

Mrs. Mutou lets out a small whine at her child's words. The loss of Ryou broke _her _heart almost or even _just_ as much as it had broken her son's. She had cared for Ryou like he was her own child. She had helped him through so many tragic, difficult times as well as celebrated with him in the beautiful, happy ones.

And now...he was gone forever.

She buries her face into Yugi's hair after his words and nods. "I know, Yugi, I know. And it's so phenomenal of you to do it, too."

There's a heavy, uneasy silence that falls upon everyone inthe room, even Ryou, like a dark storm cloud.

Mrs. Mutou once again buries her face in her son's shoulder. Yugi just continues to sit there, jaw clenched and slightly shaking, eyes wet, arms crossed, staring across the room at a painting, refusing to look at his mother. Finally, he whispers, his voice stuttering and filled with almost-tears,

"I keep h-h-having these _memories_, Mom..."

He takes a shaky, deep inhale; Mrs. Mutou looks up, her eyes now glued to her son.

"I-I keep _remembering_, you know, _stuff_. I remember when we, like, were five and six and ran around the neighborhood in Ninja Turtle and Superman outfits, and I remember when we were eleven and the neighborhood pranksters, and I remember when we first started high school and..." Yugi clenches his eyes shut again, reaching up a hand and digging his palms into them. He shakes his head. "T-t-they just won't _stop_ and i-it just makes it s-so _hard_..." he blubbers.

Mrs. Mutou is crying, now, too. Gently, the woman nuzzles her face into her son's hair and whispers,

"I know, Yugi, I know..."

Yugi lets out a small cry.

"No, you _don't_ know. You _don't_ know. You _don't_ know what it's like to be sitting here, planning your best _freaking _friend's funeral. A-a-and, the worst is, like, I keep remember the last words I _said_ to him. The last time I effing _saw _him...And, Mom, I can't freaking _forgive_ myself..."

Now, _Ryou_ is crying.

Ryou is crying and looks down in complete shame and shakes his head because, _No_, Yugi, it's not _your _fault, it's _his_. It's _Ryou's_. _Ryou_ was the one who was the complete, denying disaster. _Ryou_ was the one who yelled at and kicked _you_ out. You were just being the amazing person you are and trying to _help_ him.

Yugi, you shouldn't need to _forgive_ yourself for that.

Mrs. Mutou, upon hearing these words, pulls away from her son. She seems angry, now, because she's shaking oh-so-slightly, her jaw tight and her eyes staring unblinkingly into her son's.

"Yugi," she says, her voice stern, "Yugi, don't you _dare_. If you start going through all the 'what-if's', and all of the 'should have's' you will drive yourself _crazy_. Because, as hard as it is to accept, the truth is that you _can't change anything_. You can't go back. You can't change what you did for what you think you _should_ have done. The only thing you can do is try your hardest and your best to make the right choices _now_. Focus on the _present_, Yugi. Not the past. Focus on the present and take it one step at a time. Let the memories come; let the regrets come; they're natural; they're part of the healing process. Just don't _dwell_ on them. The truth is, Yugi, you may have made some mistakes, and Ryou made mistakes, and _Ryou_ might have changed and _you_ might have changed but that was what you were both meant to _do_. And _now_ all you can do is live life right _now_."

There's dead silence, again. This time, though, it's not thick or awkward or whatever it was before. Now, it's just filled with shock. Shock and awe.

Ryou stares at Mrs. Mutou, and he blinks once. Honestly, the woman never fails to amaze him. From the first moment he can remember meeting her when he was six and a half to a couple days before he died, he remembers that she never failed to be sweet, humble, understanding, and _honest_.

Yugi stares at his mother, just as struck as Ryou. Then, he flies forward and flings his arms around his parent and starts crying, and his mother throws her arms around _him_ and starts whispering comforting words to her child.

For minutes, they sit there, both crying and being comforted together, Ryou watching on in the shadows of the room, nothing but a spirit. Tears roll out of his hazel eyes and down his pale cheeks.

Yugi pulls away, wiping his eyes. He laughs a little bit, and Mrs. Mutou laughs a little, as well.

They sigh, and there's silence.

It's not uneasy, though. It's quiet, peaceful. Things that needed to be said have been said, and it feels like the thickness in the air has been lifted.

For everyone except Ryou, that is. Ryou still feels like ten thousand kinds of horrible.

Yugi sighs shakily, and he turns back to the writing desk and what he was scribbling on earlier. He leafs through a few pieces of paper, and he turns to his mom.

"Bakura's parents want to do a joint funeral. You know, with both Bakura and Ryou."

Ryou feels a sharp pain fly through his chest...his _heart_.

Mrs. Mutou stares off into space a little bit, her expression unreadable. Finally, she turns to her son and tilts her head.

"Well, what do you think about that?" she asks softly.

Yugi looks down and sniffles.

"I-I-I dunno. I mean, I think that, like, since the two were so close in _life _that it would only make sense to have them be that close in _death_, but...but..." he sighs, "But it'd be kind of a double whammy, you know? Like, to see _both_ of them lying there...like that..." he trails off, now, shaking his head, closing his eyes. He can't go on.

Mrs. Mutou pulls him into a hug again. She nods knowingly.

"Well, you have time. Just think about it," she softly says, and gently kisses her son's hair.

Yugi nods.

There's silence again.

Yugi and his mother pull away from each other, and both exhale shakily. "I-I wonder what _Ryou_ would want..." Yugi suddenly asks, looking off into space.

Mrs. Mutou chuckles lightly despite herself. "Well, sweetie, unfortunately, you can't ask him..."

Ryou blinks at that. It's sort of funny to hear—after all, he's sitting right in front of them.

And, quite frankly, now that he thinks about, Ryou's not sure _what_ he wants.

Ryou's not _sure_ that he wants to think about what he wants his _funeral_ to be like. It's already hard enough to watch his best friend talk about _planning_ it. He would like to stay away from planning it _himself_.

Yugi smiles weakly, sadly, and turns to the mug of coffee his mother had placed on his desk earlier. He grabs it, his hands shaky, and takes a sip.

Mrs. Mutou frowns. "Aw, honey, it's not as warm. I'll go put it in the microwave for a bit, if you want."

Yugi shakes his head. "Nah, it's caffeine and it works. It doesn't have to be hot." There's quiet, until, "Thank you, by the way."

"For the coffee?"

"For _everything_."

There's silence.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how are things going with everyone?" Yugi's mother softly asks, rearranging herself on the ground to make herself more comfortable.

Yugi is quiet for a moment.

Ryou watches and listens closely; he really wants to hear how people are taking all of this.

"Um, well, the accident was only, like, two days ago, so their withholding some information. Their families wanted their names to be withheld so that they could tell any other family members or close friends themselves. But they're withholding other stuff too. Like how Ryou was drunk and he and Bakura weren't getting along and whatever. They actually don't think they're going to release any of that, really. It's kind of personal," Yugi starts. Mrs. Mutou nods, and he goes on, "And as for Joey, well, I haven't heard from him in several days. Last time I talked to him was the night we found out at the hospital, actually, and he just left without saying a word. I haven't gotten a phone call or a visit or, like, _anything_. It's hit everybody pretty _hard_."

Mrs. Mutou is quiet, thoughtful. She takes a deep, deep breath in, and she stands up. "Well, honey, I think I'm going to go to bed. Don't stay up too late—you need sleep, too." She gives her son a soft kiss on the forehead, both smile, and then she leaves, her slippers lightly making noise on the carpeted ground.

Yugi is left alone.

Ryou licks his lips and watches.

Yugi stares after his mother for a moment, just quiet and blinking. Then, he takes a breath in, lets it out, and turns back to the writing desk. He begins looking through the papers in front of him, again, and suddenly, he starts speaking. He starts speaking into the dim room, talking to the shadows.

"So...I know this seems kind of weird..." he begins, "But, like, I just have this feeling..."

He closes his eyes.

"Ryou, are you in here?"

Ryou's breath stops.

His (non-existent?) heart is pounding.

This has been the first time in this entire "afterlife" experience that someone has noticed him.

Ryou figures it's because he and Yugi are so close. He's not surprised at all that his best friend is the first person to..._sense_ him. And, quite frankly, he is _overjoyed_ to be noticed or thought of. He flies up and races over to the writing desk.

"Yugi!" he cries, his voice cracking with a mix of happiness and desperation to be acknowledged, "Yugi! I'm here! I'm right _here_!"

He whacks his hands down onto the desk, and, to his horror, causes no reaction from the desk itself or Yugi.

Yugi sighs; he frowns.

"I guess not. It was kind of a stupid—"

Ryou can't bear to hear him finish that sentence.

"Yugi!" he screams, tears suddenly _exploding_ from his eyes, "Yugi! PLEASE, YUGI! I'M HERE! I'M RIGHT _HERE_!"

He's shaking now; he doesn't want to be forgotten, let go of, dismissed as a "stupid idea".

He grabs Yugi and gets a sudden rush of surprise as his hands don't go straight through the man like he thought they would. He's actually _holding onto him_.

Ryou bends down so that his face is level with the other boy's.

"Yugi..." he cries, his voice quieting to a desperate level, "Yugi, please..._please_, I'm here..._realize_ it..."

Yugi look straight ahead, suddenly. Dead in front of him, where Ryou stands, tears rolling down his cheeks. There's a look in his purple eyes-it's deep. He looks like he's trying to figure something out. Or that a million and one things are racing through his mind. Or both.

And then, he blinks.

Ryou sees, in his eyes, a quick flash of recognition. It's as if he _knows _someone's there. Knows without a doubt.

Ryou waits with bated breath to see what Yugi will do.

Yugi is silent and still. Then, he looks down a bit, and he smiles to himself.

He turns back to the desk and the papers without a word.

Ryou feels disappointment and devastation well in his chest. But before he has a chance to let the negative emotions fully hit him, Yugi whispers out,

"I chose red roses, Ry. They'll be _everywhere_, 'cause I know you love them."

With that the scene fades, and Ryou smiles.

Now, there is grass below him, and he savors the softness. He sits down, curls onto his side and closes his eyes, and he just _enjoys_ the peace and quiet. There are no memories, no happenings, _nothing_. Just Ryou.

For a moment, he almost finds himself dozing off.

But then, he hears a small noise.

A bird.

His eyes shoot open.

He sits up, and he looks around.

Suddenly, he realizes where he is. The local Community Park.

He smiles to himself.

This place gave him so much joy when he was alive. Whether it was when he was six years old, running up and down the play-set in the park, or whether it was when he was twenty, coming here for a walk alone or to spend some time with Bakura, this place was always so beautiful and relaxing.

Plus, at nighttime, it had the _best_ view of the stars up on the tallest hill in the south side of the park.

Ryou looks around him again, and his eyes light up as he realizes that's _exactly _where he is. He is seated perfectly on the near edge of the south side hill.

He turns around excitedly, anticipating the view he will get, and his breath is quickly taken away as soon as he does look.

In front of him is the wide expanse of the midnight sky, swirling with purples and blues and silvers, dotted with diamond-like stars, gleaming magnificently. He sighs happily. He turns around, pulls his knees to his chest, and rests his chin atop them, simply enjoying the scenery.

The silence is suddenly broken as he hears the noise that first stirred him up yet again.

A bird.

He raises an eyebrow, a bit confused and curious, and he turns to look about. Nothing catches his eye until—

"_Oh_," he breathes out, not really knowing why he even _said_ anything.

There, in the oak tree to his right, atop a strong branch, sits a sleek raven.

The bird and Ryou stare at each other for some time. The raven's dark, gem-like eyes won't leave Ryou's tired hazel.

Ryou suddenly opens his mouth again, because, he doesn't know why, but he has the strongest urge to _say_ something.

And he knows exactly what to say.

"_Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling. By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'_"

Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven". One of Ryou's favorite poems. (He had committed it to memory, he'd read it so much.)

This was the perfect moment to recite a verse, and the verse he chose just seemed to fit so _perfectly_ that Ryou can't help but smile after the words tumble out of his lips.

The raven, in turn, stares at Ryou's smiling face. It tilts its head, as if it is contemplating on something. As if it is contemplating on why in the _world_ a man, who was _dead_, and had lost _everything_, is _smiling_. Is _happy_. Is _content_.

Ryou tilts his own head, mimicking the bird. Because, quite frankly, he _himself _doesn't even know the answers to the raven's questions. He just knows all of it just _is_, and he knows he's okay with that.

And then in the blink of an eye, the bird flies off, deep into the dark, swirling, star-coated sky.

_And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting  
>On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;<br>And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,  
>And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;<br>And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor  
>Shall be lifted - nevermore...<em>


	9. Uncommon Nonsense

**AN**: New chapter! Thanks for bearing with me about the whole not-being-able-to-update-as-frequently thing, guys. My PC is all up and running now, so chapters will be coming once a week again =) enjoy!

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p>eight: uncommon nonsense<p>

* * *

><p>"You need to go home, Joey."<p>

Joey Wheeler is lying, forehead to the wooden bar counter in front of him. His normally laughing eyes are dead, glossed over. His face is covered in five-o'clock-shadow, and there are disgusting, dark bags hanging under his eyes.

He's a bona-fide mess.

Tristan Taylor sits backwards next to him on the torn up bar stool, elbows resting on the counter behind him. Next to him is Duke Devlin, a frown tugging on his features as he stares at the other man. "Joey, seriously. Get your act together. Do you know how worried everyone's been about you?" he repeats himself, a bit harsher this time, narrowing his eyes.

Tristan Taylor and Duke Devlin, the lives of any party, were well-known to be quite the guys for drinking and dancing. You wanted to go out to a bar? Just ask Tristan. He'd know all the best places. You wanted to dance and enjoy a party? They were the ones driving you to the nearest club.

But this…even _they_ had had enough of _this_.

Joey, for the past four and a half days, has been all but living at the bar down on the corner. He's drowned God-knows-how-many glasses of scotch and Jack Daniel's whiskey, and no one even knew where he was for the longest time. If it hadn't have been for Yugi calling Tristan and asking him if he had any idea where Joey was, and if Tristan didn't know right away where Joey was (because the bar on the corner is Joey's favorite bar and he'd often taken Tristan to share a drink with him there), Joey would probably still be alone and almost passed out at this very moment.

Ryou sits watching in the corner of the bar, in the dark, in the shadows, surrounded by clouds of cheap cigarette smoke and the stench of hard liquor.

It makes him nauseous.

He's not really surprised that Joey's sitting here, completely drunk. He's just a bit surprised that everybody else seems so surprised at him being at the bar.

The whole situation must be much worse than Ryou thinks. Which would make sense, considering the fact that he just showed up to this scene, just in time to see Tristan Taylor and Duke Devlin making their entrance with disgusted, frustrated looks on their faces.

"Joey, when was the last time you went home?" Tristan asks, loudly, because Joey either really can't hear him, or is just ignoring him, and either way, a louder tone is hopefully bound to get him to listen.

Joey is silent.

"Joey?" Tristan prods.

Joey finally turns his head to face Tristan. His movements are sluggish. "I don't have a home. I can't go back there, Tristan. Not to the apartment _we_ shared together. I can't move in with my parents, 'cause I have stay here and watch my two best effing friends get buried under six feet of grass and dirt, so I rented a hotel room."

Ryou blinks; he didn't expect that.

His friend's words are surprisingly clear, heart-wrenching, and make a whole lot of sense for his present condition.

Tristan and Duke are just as shocked at Joey's words as Ryou seems to be, because for a moment they sit on the bar stool and stare, blinking. After all, what's Tristan supposed to say to that? Since he's Tristan Taylor, though, he figures out something to say, and within a few more seconds he lets out a heavy sigh and turns from watching Joey.

"This is hard on all of us, Joey. Ryou and Bakura dying and all. Everybody feels the pain and is planning on coming to the funeral. And I know that what I just said probably doesn't mean a thing to you, because it's probably a million times harder on you and Yugi, but you gotta realize, man…drinking isn't gonna help in the long run," Tristan says, still not looking at Joey, his voice a bit quieter.

Joey is wordless.

Tristan thinks maybe he said too much.

"So…you're staying at a hotel? Why? I would have let you stay with me, too."

Joey groans a little.

His forehead is back against the wood.

Ryou watches and licks his lips.

This entire scenario is so pathetic.

Duke swallows. "Uhm…well, like, everyone's been wondering where you are. Especially Yugi. I think you should give him a call."

Joey, at this, turns his head, and he shoots a frighteningly dark glare at both if his friends. There are no words needed.

Tristan blinks. Even with the previous look, he still continues the conversation where Duke left off. He just has to say what's on the tip of his tongue, what he's beenvdesperatelyvtrying to find a way around saying, but really just has to get out.

"Joey, please. Please. I'm begging you, try and pull yourself together. Yugi needs you right now. _We_ need you. Everybody needs you, because this is such a ridiculously disgusting, horrible situation that we have no idea what to do," he sputters out, his voice desperate and cracking.

Enough is enough.

Joey shoots up with the man's words and his face is etched in such fury that even Ryou shrinks back a little, and he's already dead.

"You have `no idea what to do'?" Joey sneers, mocking Tristan, "You have `no idea what to do'? Oh my _God_! How in God's name am I supposed to help with that? I have no idea what to do with _myself_!"

Now, Joey's glass of scotch has been chucked upwards off of the counter in anger, and it clatters to the floor with a horrifying smash and Tristan turns beet red as everyone in the bar's attention is now fully on the three of them and their rather personal fight.

Joey pounds his fists onto the table, and Tristan has no idea what to do. The situation is spiraling out of control, and now, the bartender is actually walking up to Joey and asking him to "please quiet down" and Joey is screeching and yelling words that aren't supposed to make sense but somehow do, and now Joey is crying and Tristan is crying and Duke is even crying because it's just the last straw.

"Joey, PLEASE!" Tristan screams suddenly, standing up, reaching out, trying to grab the bassist and restrain him from pounding and throwing things, "Joey, GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!"

Joey lets out an ear-shattering sob and just stands there as Tristan grabs a hold of him?and pulls him quickly out of the bar. Joey is tripping all over the place and is sniffling and crying like a madman and Tristan is having a hard time leading him out, but somehow he manages, and in a few seconds Ryou is standing outside in the bright Las Vegas sunlight, watching Tristan, Duke and Joey crouch on the ground, sobbing.

Obviously, Joey's hysterics are exasperated because of his drunken state, but Ryou can clearly see that the true source of it all is the man's utter misery and grief.

Joey Wheeler, best friend of Ryou, Bakura, and Yugi is heartbroken, and the only thing he could think of to help him with that unbearable pain is booze.

It's so disgustingly cliche, but if Ryou can look past the utter banality of it all, it somehow fits.

"I-I-I haven't slept for days, you guys…" Joey blubbers out, his words hard to hear, as they are slurred and he's still hiding his face in his folded arms, "I-I've probably been drinking myself to my death, a-and I have no idea what in God's name to do to stop it…Everybody probably hates me, n-now. I'm a disaster. I-I'm effing hopeless."

Duke sits back, silent. He processes the man's words for a moment or two, and then, finally, he swallows.

"Joey…Joey. Please, realize something. We're all lost, right now. All our heads are spinning. None of us have any idea what to do. But we've all got to be there for each other. Nobody hates you. In fact, we all love you, Joey. We all love you so much that we want to help you. We want you to be there as we all try in figure out what in God's name to do. We want you to help us. And together, Joey, together, I think—no, I _know_—…it will all work out."

Silence.

Ryou has tears slipping out of his eyes.

God, he's so _tired_ of crying.

He wonders what Joey will say to Tristan's words.

But Joey doesn't say anything.

He doesn't make a single move.

But, at least…

…He's stopped crying.

* * *

><p>The next room Ryou comes to is, like the Mutous' office, very dimly lit.<p>

There is also a writing desk tucked in the corner like back at the room with Yugi.

But the person sitting in the desk is different.

It's not his best friend.

It's his _father_.

His father who walked out on him all those years ago.

Ryou's mouth twists in distaste.

His father is crying; she sniffles and lets out a shaky breath as Ryou watches. He's busy staring at a piece of paper on the desk.

Ryou looks closer.

It's a photo of himself.

Ryou's father reaches up and he wipes his eyes.

"Oh, Ryou…" he whispers out, his voice filled to the brim with regret, misery, and tears, "I am so, so sorry…"

Ryou feels his stomach drop.

Well, _that_ was unexpected.

His dad shakes his head. "I-I…oh, God. I just made so many mistakes…" he breathes out, talking to himself, "So many mistakes. And I really did love you…"

Ryou's jaw drops open a little.

"I still do love you, too, Ryou. I always will." his father quietly says, and then the scene fades to black.

It was simple, short, sweet, and it cut Ryou to the bone.

* * *

><p>"I knew that boy was going to be trouble from the moment I saw him."<p>

Ryou frowns deeply as he watches Bakura's mother, pale as death, hair sticking every which way, eyes puffy red, pace along the floor to the Bakuras' living room. Bakura's father watches from off to the side, shaking his head. His arms are crossed across his chest.

"Honestly. This wasn't Ryou's fault!" he exclaims, looking up at his wife, exasperated at her words and behavior.

Bakura's mother immediately stops her frantic walking back and forth. She stares at her husband. "From the moment Bakura first spoke to that boy, he changed. He was no longer our Bakura. He—"

"He what?" Bakura's mother cuts off of the woman, "He what? He started making new friends? He started having adventures?" Boyd shakes his head in disgust, "Honestly. Listen to yourself! And would you stop calling him `that boy', already? His name is Ryou!"

Bakura's father is determined to make his wife see, even in her present hysterics, that Ryou and Bakura's friendship wasn't all bad. Sure, his son did sort of turn his back on their strict christian upbringing, but Bakura was bound to have that happen eventually as he grew older. He never really was one for the whole religion thing. As a matter of fact, as far as Bakura's father is concerned, he thinks that meeting Ryou was the best thing that could have happened to his son.

Bakura's mother glares daggers at the man across from her, obviously thinking just the opposite.

Then, suddenly, she gets a devious smirk on her face. "I'm sorry… But, honey, I must correct you…his name _was_ Ryou. His name _was_ Ryou, and our son's name _was_ Bakura. Their names _were_ Ryou and Bakura, because now they're dead. Because of Ryou, Bakura is dead! Our only son is _dead_!"

Ryou looks down as fast as he can, feeling guilt completely overtake him. Slowly, he starts shaking.

With her words, Bakura's mother falls onto the sofa to her right and starts sobbing into her hands. She starts sobbing and shaking, and her husband runs forward. He sits next to the woman and wraps his arms around her.

Even though he is still a bit upset with his wife, he knows he has to be there for her.

"Sweetie, please don't…don't cry…" Bakura's father suddenly trails off, because as soon as the words come out of his lips, flashes of his only son fly through his mind and he realizes that he'll never see his child again.

For a few moments, the husband and wife just sit there, crying together.

Ryou feels like dying over and over and over again.

This is all just so tiring.

This is all Ryou seems to see anymore. All these memories have been filled with nothing but exhaustion, anger, regret, and agony.

It's terrible.

Bakura's mother slowly lifts her head up. Her tears have slowed down, but her makeup is completely ruined, and she's still shuddering lightly.

"I-I'm sorry…" she breathes out, her voice thick with emotion, "I'm sorry. All that I said was uncalled for."

Bakura's father hugs his wife closer, nuzzling his face into her hair. The woman continues,

"I-I just…oh. I just can't believe our Bakura is gone…"

Then there's nothing but silence.

Ryou watches on, crying yet again. He licks his lower lip and closes his eyes, and he whispers out,

"Neither can I."


	10. You May Rest a Little, Now

**AN**: Yay, chapter nine! I'm gonna try and keep my weekly update schedule but my stepsister's coming down for the Summer so I might be a few days late here and there. Bear with me x) Enjoy!

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p><em>nine: you may rest a little, now<em>

* * *

><p><strong><span>"W<span>**e are gathered here today to celebrate and honor the amazing lives of two phenomenal young men."

The present is over with.

Ryou is outside on a hill.

There is no sign of a city or even a town for miles. The breeze is soft on his face, and the air is thick with the heavy scent of mid-summertime. The sky is blinding blue with not a single cloud hovering anywhere. The grass is bright green, lush, and swaying in the wind.

There is a crowd of people sitting in dark chairs, in front of two shiny mahogany coffins covered in red and white roses.

It's a _gorgeous_ day.

And this is his funeral.

Ryou's heart stops.

For a moment, there is nothing but the wind blowing through his ears. Everything is hauntingly silent.

Then suddenly, he starts shaking.

At first, it's slight. The quivering starts in his jaw, almost unnoticeable. But then, it moves. It moves and it overtakes his _entire_ body until every _inch_ of him is quaking and he can't _stop_.

The world starts spinning oh-so-slightly.

This is such a _disgustingly_ twisted moment.

He's a _guest_ at his own _funeral_.

God.

He just wants it all to go away.

He feels like he's in one of those nightmares where you _know_ it's a nightmare but you can't wake up and everything goes so _slowly_ and all the agony just _drags_ out.

Ryou looks forward and he watches all the people. He watches the people with sheet-white, stone-still faces, afraid of showing _any_ emotion whatsoever at the risk of completely breaking down, of completely _losing_ it. He watches the people who have tears running down their cheeks, the people who are _sobbing_. He watches the people who have their hands clenched in their laps, deathly-white. He watches the people who are staring at the ground, refusing to look up into the sunlit summer sky.

He watches Bakura's parents and Bakura's other relatives, Mr. and Mrs. Mutou, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, Tristan, Mai, Serenity, Seto and Mokuba Kaiba, Duke, Tea, and the most important people, Joey and Yugi.

He watches them, and he wonders if he dares to step any closer.

He feels like if he steps any closer he'll be acknowledging this. Making it okay. Making it _real_. (Because, Ryou figures, this is the _future_. None of this is actually _happening_ yet.)

Nonetheless, within seconds, Ryou feels himself moving.

He's walking _right_ around the audience, and _right_ up to the front where the pastor stands. He stops, staring at everybody.

How _unbelievable_ is this?

There they all are—all his loved ones. There they all are, sobbing and in pain at the loss of _him_ (Well, him _and_ Bakura, but Ryou's _really _trying not to focus on the fact Bakura's _dead_. Even though it _is_ kind of _unavoidable_). There they all are, sobbing at the death of someone who's standing _right_ in front of them, watching them _all_.

It's so _weird_.

Even _funny_, in a sick sort of way.

Ryou shuffles from one foot to another, feeling _very_ uncomfortable. And rightfully so, too.

He looks down.

Out of his lips come the only words he can manage to think of.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>Ryou looks back up and the funeral is over.<p>

The sky isn't blue and clear and shining anymore.

Well, it _kind_ of is. There are storm clouds, filled to _bursting_ with summer rain, slowly creeping in on the phenomenal blue sky, darkening it bit by bit. The gentle breeze from before is picking up, making the grass bend and sway more and more violently by the second.

Ryou knows an oh-so-expected, oh-so-regular summertime thunderstorm is coming.

He bites his lip and starts walking. To where, he's not sure, but he knows he just has to get moving.

The field is wide and green and bright up against the quickly-graying sky behind him, and ahead of him, Ryou hears faint voices, and if he squints so, _so_ hard, he can _barely _see a gravel parking lot and cars. The field is ending up ahead.

But first...there's a hill.

Well, it's not really a _hill_ as much as it is a slight bump in the wide expanse all around him. But it's situated _perfectly_ in the middle of the field, and atop it is a magnificent oak tree. Its strong branches are reaching out, dotted with dark green leaves. It's shadowing something.

Or rather, some_thing_ and two _people_.

Ryou picks up his pace and starts up the hill, anxious to see who's there.

As soon as he does, his blood runs cold, and he feels misery well up inside of him. Tears sting at the corner of his hazel eyes because there rest his and Bakura's headstones, side-by-side.

In front of them stand Yugi and Joey, both holding single red and white roses in their hands, hands folded and clenched tightly in front of them, faces staring downward at their friend's graves.

God, this is all so effing _tragic_.

Ryou doesn't know how much more tragedy he can really take.

The oak tree is beautifully, hauntingly shadowing the two boys, and his and Bakura's graves. The backdrop is the semi-blue, semi-gray sky contrasting against the almost-neon-green grass. The wind is twirling, making the oak tree's leaves rattle, the grass tickle against Ryou's legs, and Joey and Yugi's coats to swirl a bit.

Then, of course, with the exception of the sounds of nature, it's silent.

It's so perfect and imperfect at the same time that Ryou just wants to _cry_ at it all.

Finally, there's movement. Ryou watches as Yugi slowly, so slowly, bends down and reaches forward, placing the red rose he's holding oh-so-carefully in his hand against Ryou's headstone. And then, Ryou watches as his best friend reaches up and covers his face with his hands, and Ryou watches as his best friend starts _sobbing_.

Yugi just kneels there for a few moments, shaking and crying, until finally, Joey lets out a breath. He lets out a big breath and looks off to the side at the beautiful sky, and he just stands still, and if Ryou looks closely enough, he can see Joey's eyes are wet with tears. Then, he turns and looks at Yugi on the ground, and Joey bends down as well, placing the white rose he has a hold of against _Bakura's_ grave.

And for what seems like forever, Yugi and Joey just sit there, Yugi sobbing and Joey staring ahead blankly, the breeze slowly rustling the nature around them, as if nothing's out-of-place at all.

Ryou sits.

The grass feels cool beneath him, and he brings his knees to his chest. He wraps his thin arms tightly around them and rests his chin atop them. He feels like crying, and he feels the tears welling up inside of him, just _waiting_ to come bursting out.

And yet he doesn't.

He doesn't shed a tear.

He just sits and calmly and quietly watches his two best friends.

And that's when he notices it.

Both Yugi and Joey look exhausted. Yugi's purple eyes are puffy red and he's paler than usual, and Ryou figures that's all from the grief and shock and stress of the deaths and funeral. The exhaustion is expected; normal, even.

But with Joey...it's _not_. Joey's hazel-brown eyes are bloodshot, and the whites are tinted with a sick sort of yellow. He's got five o'clock shadow that Ryou would have expected him to shave off for the funeral all across his face, and he looks tired. So tired. But...Ryou can tell the tiredness isn't _just_ from stress.

Joey's not well.

Ryou frowns.

And then, as he tries to look harder, tries to maybe figure out _what_ exactly is wrong with Joey, Yugi stands up. He stands up, and he lets out shaky breath, and then Joey follows his actions.

Ryou feels frustration welling up in his chest, and he leans forward a bit, wanting to yell at them to stop moving. He doesn't want them to go. Not yet.

But, of course, Ryou's pleas are ignored, and within seconds, the wind blows and the scene is gone with the gust.

* * *

><p>The room is dark.<p>

It's dark, and it is thick with the scent of alcohol and hangovers.

Ryou wants to throw up.

He had to deal with alcohol and hangovers in his life; he doesn't need any more of it in _death_.

But, alas, Ryou remains tucked in the unknown room's corner, crossing his arms and inching as far back into the shadows as he can, trying unsuccessfully to escape the smell and atmosphere and bad memories.

Suddenly, there's a voice.

"Do you know how much they would be _disgusted_ with you?"

Ryou turns.

There, at the room's doorway, only a foot or so away from where Ryou hides in the corner, is Yugi. Ryou guesses that it's sometime after the funeral, because while Yugi still looks miserable and tired, he doesn't look as _absolutely_ horrible as he did before. His hair is disheveled, as if he just woke up. His eyes are puffy, and he's got a simple t-shirt, jacket, and jeans on.

He leans against the doorway.

"Joey."

He calls out to the other older boy in the room, prompting him to speak, his tone no-nonsense, upset, and disgusted, and Ryou's eyes widen in surprise. Why is Yugi so _pissed_?

Ryou looks ahead, peering as best he can in the darkness to catch sight of the Joey. Finally, Ryou's eyes catch on a hunched-over form, silent and shaking.

Now, there's quiet.

Ryou's heart is pounding.

Joey turns, and Ryou suddenly realizes that he's in the bathroom, and Joey is getting sick, and Joey is utterly, _disgustingly_ hung-over.

"Just leave, Yugi," Joey blankly says, his eyes dull and tired, his voice scratchy.

Yugi's violet eyes narrow. "I'm not going to _leave_, Joey. You need _help_."

Joey suddenly glares _daggers_ at the younger boy across the small room. "I don't need your _help_," he spits out, tone dripping with a hate that freezes Ryou to the core.

Yugi lets out a frustrated breath, and he looks down for a moment. "Duke called me," he simply says, "He told me about that bet you made the other night."

Joey looks away, suddenly without words and stone-still.

Ryou bites his lower lip, feeling worry rise in his chest.

Yugi looks up. "How could you _do_ that, Joey? How could you bet _all_ that money and then just _lose_ it?"?

Joey refuses to answer the blonde.

There's a long, long silence, and it seems like Yugi's _determined_ not to speak until Joey replies. But, finally, the silence gets too deafening and Yugi harshly says,

"Joey, _look_ at yourself. You're a _mess_. Ever since the funeral a couple of months ago you've been gambling and making _stupid _choices that are costing you _thousands_, and you've been drinking yourself into your effing _grave_."

Ryou swallows.

Yugi takes in a quick breath.

"_Why_?"

The question hangs in the air for a while, and Ryou feels the seconds ooze by.

Ryou's not sure that there's an answer to the question. Ryou's not sure that _Yugi_ even knows what he wants to hear in reply.

Finally, Joey speaks.

"I don't know."

More silence, and Ryou bites his lower lip.

Yugi lets out a shaky, _shaky_ sigh, and he looks down. "Joey…I don't get it. Last time you were like this, Tristan talked to you, and you cried, and you let it out, and you were _okay_..." He pauses, "But _now_...now, _nothing's_ working. You won't let _anyone_ help you. And you're _killing_ yourself because of it."

Ryou looks down; those words cut him to the bone. His heart starts to pound, because at the thought of any _more _of his friends dying, he's horrified. And now, _now_ he realizes why Joey looked so unhealthy back at the funeral.

Joey was a full-blown alcoholic.

The bloodshot and yellow-ish eyes?

Hangovers and liver damage.

The unshaven face and exhaustion?

Not caring and drowning sorrows.

Now, he sees it _so_ clearly.

And that just breaks his heart.

Joey shakes his head slowly, so slowly, at Yugi's words.

"What do you want me to _say_, Yugi?" he asks, softly, pathetically, disgusted. But the funny thing is, he sounds disgusted with _himself_. Like he _knows_ he's slowly killing himself, but he knows that he _also_ can't stop or fix it. He's in too deep.

Yugi's quiet, because he honestly doesn't know what to say to that. So he just decides to change the subject.

"I just...can you _imagine_ what Bakura and Ryou would think if they saw you like this?" he asks, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. He's trying to guilt-trip Joey, now. As cruel as that is, he's hoping it'll get the older boy back on track.

Ryou bites his lower lip, because he wants to scream out, "We'd be _disgusted_. We'd be _horrified_. We'd want to _help_, even though we would know we c_ouldn't_."

Because, that's honestly all that he's feeling right now, as he watches Joey wallow in his pain and disgust and frustration in the dark room.

Of course, he can't exactly speak for _Bakura_.

And then, for the first time in this _entire_ afterlife experience...Ryou wonders something.

Ryou wonders what _Bakura's_ spirit is doing.

Did Bakura just go straight up to Heaven or wherever souls go?

Or is Bakura stuck in the Universe somewhere, too, doomed to re-live mistakes and memories for eternity, like Ryou is?

He hopes not.

He doesn't want Bakura to have to go through all the pain _he_ is.

Joey groans loudly, breaking Ryou's train of thought, suddenly. "Yugi, I'm _sorry_, okay? I'm _sorry_." And he weakly turns, looking at Yugi, and Ryou suddenly is hit with how _horrible_ Joey truly looks.

Yugi stares unblinkingly at the man for a moment. And then, he shakes his head,

"Goodbye, Joey," he softly says, and then he turns to leave.

Joey stares after Yugi's exiting form for a moment, and then he turns back around, bringing up his hands and resting his head in them, defeated.

Ryou bites his lower lip and feels his heart swell.

_No_.

It can't...It can't just _end_ like this. Yugi just can't _leave_ Joey, and Joey just can't _leave_ Yugi, and they can't just _hate_ each other.

Ryou, in his moment of desperation, flies out of the corner and turns out of the doorway, chasing after Yugi's retreating form. The rest of Joey's house is dark as well, because it's nighttime, and all the blinds are closed. But Ryou can just _barely_ make out his best friend's quickly leaving form up ahead so that he can follow the boy.

"Yugi!" Ryou calls, his heart pounding.

Even though he _knows_ Yugi can't hear him, he just feels like he has to say what's on the tip of his tongue.

"Yugi, _please_," he begs, reaching out a hand as he gets closer to the younger boy, "Yugi, don't leave. Don't leave him. _Help_ him."

Yugi stops dead in his tracks.

Ryou follows suite.

For a moment, the two just stand in silence, Ryou behind Yugi, staring at the boy's back, heart pounding, wondering if, by some miracle, Yugi _heard_ him.

And then, finally, Yugi lets out a breath. He reaches up his hands and runs his fingers through his hair and swallows.

"I tried..." he chokes out. At first, Ryou thinks that Yugi's talking to him. But, after a moment, disappointment wells up in his chest as he realizes Yugi's simply talking to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that he did _not_ just give up and walk out on one of his best friends. "I tried, and it didn't work..."

There's a long, long silence.

Ryou lowers his hand and he feels like crying, because everything is just a _disaster_. Everything in Ryou's life is falling apart at 100 miles per hour as Ryou watches, not able to do a_thing_.

Yugi closes his eyes.

The words that come out of his lips next make Ryou's blood run cold with fear.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take."

* * *

><p>R&amp;R =]<p> 


	11. A Cat Without a Grin

**AN**: So, I'm soooo late with this chapter ^ ^; Sorry about that, things to do over the Summer and all. I'm gonna update two chapters to make up for it so keep an eye out for the next one real soon.

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p><em>ten: a cat without a grin<em>

* * *

><p>Ryou opens his eyes, and he is alone in a dark room.<p>

It's an office.

Two armchairs, a desk, a computer, and a huge, locked filing cabinet lie around him.

Ryou blinks.

What is he doing in a _psychiatrist's_ office?

He only knows it's a psychiatrist's office, because there's a framed quote by Freud hanging on the white-washed walls, and if he looks closely, he can see "eague Of Psychiatrists" printed in bold letters across the glass door. He swallows.

There's a clock ticking somewhere.

Its tick is steady, never-ending, and_haunting_ in the already-eerie darkness. Ryou just stands where he is for what seems like hours, wondering what in _God's_ name he's supposed to do now. And then, his wandering gaze happens to land upon the filing cabinet in the corner.

Suddenly, Ryou knows what he needs to do.

He blinks.

He walks over.

He bends down.

It's locked.

Ryou frowns.

Well, _this_ is kind of a predicament. He's stuck in a psychiatrist's office, all-alone, at night, and the _one_ thing he knows he _has_ to do, he _can't_.

Because it's _locked_.

_Not funny, Universe. __Not __funny._

Taking a breath in, Ryou reaches up and runs his hands through his white hair. He's trying to be rational in an irrational situation. It's just Ryou's nature, even though it doesn't make sense.

He figures the key has to be around here somewhere, so he starts looking. He opens drawers (only two, though. Like the filing cabinet, many of the desk drawers are locked, as well. Not _that_ surprising. After all, psychiatric patients' files and information _should_ be confidential. Even though that confidentiality's annoying the _hell_ out of Ryou, right now.), looks behind doors, and even on the _floor_.

Nothing.

At _all_.

Finally, after at least ten, fifteen minutes of looking, Ryou gives up.

Ryou gives up, and he falls to the floor, long, thin limbs sprawled out, letting a breath escape.He closes his eyes.

Well, what _now_? He's at a total loss for what to do.

And then, suddenly, he remembers a certain book.

A certain favorite book of his.

_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland__._

And Ryou remembers that book, and he suddenly thinks, 'Wow, this is a lot like the chapter where Alice is looking for the key', because Ryou is the kind of boy to compare real-life happenings to 1800s British Literature.

Suddenly, his hazel eyes fly open.

He sits there for a moment, almost wondering if he should _dare_ to look.

Ryou gets up, and he walks to the three-legged, decorative glass table, right next to one of the armchairs in the corner. He looks, and suddenly, he notices something he d_idn't_ before: a vase. The vase is filled with those colorful, glass, decorative pebbles, and he tilts his head. Then, slowly, he walks over, and he swallows. He takes a moment, hoping, _praying_ this will work, and then, he reaches his thin hand in the vase, feeling around the cool glass for a moment.

And then it's there.

His long fingers wrap around the small object, and Ryou pulls out the small, silver key. He smirks.

Well, what do you know?

What a _coincidence_.

Though, if Ryou's honest, he has a feeling _nothing_ that's happened so far in this afterlife is a coincidence. Nothing at _all_.

He clears his throat, and he heads over to the filing cabinet. He bends down, and he sticks the key in the lock, and he smiles satisfactorily as he hears the nice 'click' when he turns it.

Now that it's open, Ryou, he's almost afraid to look inside it.

His heart pounds, and he takes in a shaky breath. Then, he straightens up, and he reaches to the top of the desk, and he flicks on the light. Soon after, the office is flooded with a warn, orange glow, and Ryou feels a _bit_ more comforted now that he can actually _see_. He takes a moment longer, and then, he pulls open the first, heavy, metal drawer.

It's the right drawer.

Because, as soon as Ryou opens it, he sees the names, "Mutou, Yugi", and "Wheeler, Joseph."

Ryou blinks.

Now, _this_ is a bit of a surprise.

_Joey_ and _Yugi_ having files…Ryou didn't expect that at _all_. He's almost _afraid_ to know why his two best friends have been seeing a mental health expert.

He takes a breath in and prepares himself for whatever's to come.

Yugi's first.

_Patient complains of insomnia, lack of appetite, suicidal thoughts, _(Ryou cringes at that one)_, and mood swings. Diagnosed with clinical depression and prescribed appropriate antidepressant._

Ryou swallows.

Well, it's not _good_, but it's not the _worst_ that could happen, either.

He puts his best friend's file aside and picks up Joey's. He opens it, biting his lower lip, eyes quickly scanning the page.

_Patient urged to come in for treatment by a friend, another patient of ours (Mutou, Yugi). Extremely cold and sarcastic in therapy sessions, and makes it very clear he does not want to be here. Suffers from alcoholism and has a dangerously quick temper and unstable moods. A tendency to want to fight/become physical when angry._

The thin boy reads this, and he frowns.

My God, what has _happened_ to his friends?

Joey Wheeler, cool, collected, fun Joey Wheeler is a bona-fide alcoholic and described as "unstable" by a psychiatrist. "Unstable". "Angry."

_Dangerous_.

Ryou grabs both his friends' folders and stuffs them in the drawer, heart pounding, feeling his entire body quiver with every movement, slamming the metal shut and locking the drawer up tight.

* * *

><p>Ryou looks up, and it's pouring rain.<p>

The boy frowns.

_Nice._

A dark, cold, windy storm is _just_ what he needs after an emotional rollercoaster like that.

But, it's not like this afterlife or whatever is particularly kind or _compassionate_.

Ryou knows _that_ without a doubt.

He moves forward, through the rain, slowly, sluggishly. He feels his feet trample through deep puddles, sloshing and splashing the cold rainwater all along the dark road. A phone booth rests, empty, on the other side of the street, dully illuminating a bit of the world around it with its single dying light bulb, and Ryou pays it no heed. It's late at night, and Ryou's in one of the quieter parts of the city. Not many people are out; in fact, Ryou is alone.

The water pounds down on him from the heavens, and he's got his arms wrapped around himself for warmth (not that it'll do much good; he's only been out in the storm for a minute or so and he's already soaked to the _bone_), but for some reason, he's not cold.

He doesn't care enough to be cold anymore.

He's just sick of it all.

He doesn't care if he's sopping wet, if he's lost, if he's the only soul around. He just doesn't _care_.

He's _ready_ to die.

Or, ready to be dead.

He just wants to go to sleep.

To make it all go _away_.

The numbness, the pain, the regret, the guilt.

He swallows.

There's a bench in front of him, now, and for a moment, he just stares at it. In the dark of the night, it's barely able to be seen, but Ryou knows it's there. And then, Ryou, he sits.

It's funny, at first.

It's funny, because, well, he's a _ghost_.

Technically, he should be falling _through_ the bench. He's not _solid_, after all.

But, who _knows_ anymore?

Ryou gone from invisible to visible, to slightly human to not human at all so much in the past few hours, that he really has no _idea_ what he is, anymore. No idea what to _expect_, anymore.

Now, he's sitting here, alone, rain pouring down around him, miserable.

* * *

><p>Ryou stands on the front porch of Joey's home. The rain is pouring outside, rolling off the top of the porch roof like hundreds of mini-waterfalls. It's quiet (but Ryou's gotten awful used to quiet, so it's not <em>that<em> upsetting, anymore).

He is soaked; he is freezing; he is hurting inside and out. He is _tired_. He just wants this all to be _over_. No more memories, no more regrets, no more "what-ifs", no more flashes of the future, no more _pain._ His hands are clenched in front of him, shaking, twisting, white as snow.

Ryou looks down, clenching his hazel eyes shut.

He licks his lips and looks back up after a moment of complete inner agony. Taking a shaky breath in, he realizes that this is the only chance he'll have in God-knows-how long (maybe even ever again) to speak to Yugi.

Slowly, he reaches a pale, thin hand up, and he lightly taps the front door he remembers oh-so well.

A voice comes from the inside—chipper and full of fun. It's a young woman. Within moments, the door is opened, and warm light pours out into the freezing, wet, evening.

The girl standing there is Serenity, Joey's sister. She looks older than Ryou remembers; she looks to be in her early twenties.

"Hang on, there's someone at the—"

Her eyes connect with his, and the girl lets out a small cry of disbelief and horror.

Her eyes are wide and she's paling faster and faster, so Ryou lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding in and spews out,

"Serenity. God. Please, _please_, I know this has got to be—"

"N-n-no, I...you...what the hell _are_ you?"

Ryou's eyes snap up, and his heart skips a beat.

Ryou swallows, and all he manages out is,

"W-w-where is Joey…?"

"Is this some kind of sick _joke_?" Serenity glares, "Because it's not _funny_."

Ryou stares in horror. "W-_what_…?"

"My brother is dead."

Ryou's breath stops.

Slowly, he turns, heart pounding loudly in his ears, every inch of him praying for this whole thing to be some disgusting nightmare.

For a moment, Serenity and Ryou just stare at each other; Ryou's hazel eyes twinkling with tears, horror, anger, disbelief, and misery scribbled on his face, Serenity with her eyes narrow, breathing heavily, angry at this man that would _dare_ to play such a sick joke.

Finally, Ryou finds his voice.

"H-h-how?"

Serenity attempts to push Ryou out of the open door.

"_PLEASE_!" he cries, racing forward, holding the door open, "Please, just…just _tell_ me. When did he die…? _Please_."

Ryou's eyes are wide—horror and desperation filling them to the brim. "_Please_," he repeats, every inch of him shuddering, every fiber in his body completely _desperate_. Serenity stares at him.

It is silent.

Then finally, she sighs, and she looks down.

"My brother...died five years ago."

Ryou's mouth starts to tremble. "H-how…?"

Serenity swallows. He looks up at Ryou, and for a moment, they stare unblinkingly at each other.

"He was shot. By Yugi." Serenity has tears in her eyes. "There was a fight, Joey was drunk, and Yugi was only trying to defend himself but…"

Serenity stops.

She doesn't want to, doesn't _need_ to, go on.

Ryou feels his heart stop. He doesn't even know how he managed to mummer out,

"A-and…and Yugi…?"

Serenity doesn't move.

"He killed himself minutes after."

With that, the door is closed in his face, and Ryou has no words, no feelings, no thoughts as he stands outside, in the rain, in the dark, alone.

* * *

><p>R&amp;R =]<p> 


	12. How Very Late It's Getting!

**AN**: So, this is actually catching up with me because this is the second-to-last chapter. Hope you've enjoyed it so far, and I hope the ending does not disappoint! =]

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p><em>eleven: how very late it's getting!<em>

* * *

><p>Ryou swallows hard.<p>

He bends down to the ground, wrapping his long, thin arms around himself. He clenches his eyes shut until they hurt, and then they start _stinging_, because the tears are coming faster and faster and Ryou's not going to even _try_ and stop them.

The boy lets out a whimper - small, desperate, exhausted, and then finally, he just lets himself _fall_. All strength completely fading from his limbs, the soft, green grass brushes against his cool skin as he plops onto it, letting out another small cry as the tears begin sliding down his cheeks. This hopelessness, this misery, this regret - it's nothing new. And Ryou _hates_ that.

He's had enough.

"W-w-why is this..." he's blubbering, now, talking to people who aren't there and never will be. Ghosts. Like _him_. "W-why does this all keep _happening_? Why won't it _stop_?"

Another cry, and Ryou pounds his fists hard against the ground.

"WHY WON'T IT **STOP**?"

Silence is his only reply, and Ryou shakes his head. But, then again, it's not like he _expected_ anything to really happen. He was just _hoping_.

Of course, as this entire experience has proven, hoping is utterly _useless_.

A complete waste of time.

Ryou falls back to the grass.

He spreads his limbs across the ground, closing his eyes and feeling his head pound, his eyes?throb, his body ache?from all the tears and agony. Gently, he shakes his head.

He hasn't even _bothered_ to see where the Afterlife has taken him next. In fact, he couldn't _give_ a damn. He's just _sick_ of it.

For a while, he just sits there.

It's interesting, and it's odd, because nothing _happens_. No voices are heard. Nothing falls. Nothing moves.

Ryou is alone.

Ryou is safe.

The boy's hazel eyes shoot open.

A wind starts up, now. It's cool, gentle. It makes him shiver more than it normally would, because Ryou feels like this little gust, this little breeze...he feels like it's one of the nicest things this Afterlife has done for him in a long, long time.

His body is pounding and aching and he feels flustered and hot and this breeze just cools and calms him down.

He sighs, letting out a breath, and it's carried away with the wind.

Now, his eyes open again, and he sits up.

And the first thing he's greeted with is four tombstones.

Ryou's heart sinks to his stomach and he feels his head start to twirl, all feelings of relative peace and comfort from seconds before whizzing away at 100 miles per hour.

Oh, _God_.

Ryou swallows, and his eyes narrow, and he thinks that this is not _fair_. _Just_ when he thought he was getting a reprieve, however small it would be, the Universe has to snatch it away as quick as it came and replace it with _this_.

Through tear-filled eyes, with the faint, almost-nonexistent lighting (Wherever the Universe sent him - it's nighttime) Ryou manages to read the writing on the tombstones.

The first two are familiar.

Well, _fairly_.

_Ryou's._

_Bakura's._

But the second two?

Well, _they're _new...

_Joey's._

_Yugi's._

Ryou lets out a quiet cry and hides his head in his hands.

For a long time, there's nothing but his sobs. And then, Ryou speaks. His voice is thick and his words are clumsy but he knows he has to say what's repeating itself over and over and over in his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

And then there are footsteps.

Ryou's head shoots up.

"Mom?"

Ryou's mother stands in front of him, hands in her pockets, wearing the same outfit that she was on that autumn pathway from what seems like forever ago.

All tears stop. Ryou's mouth falls open. He just stares.

She smiles, her brown eyes sparkling the tiniest bit with amusement at his son's rather stunned reaction. "Hey, Ryou," she finally says, and her voice comes out in a whisper, sad and tired. The woman takes a big breath in, and, to Ryou's surprise, she sits.

Ryou feels himself scoot away from his mom.

He's not sure _why_ he does (it's just his _mom_, after all), but he's just so unsure of everything and anything right now that _nothing_ is safe in his mind.

Silence swirls around the two as that cool wind from before starts up again.

Mother and son watch each other, seated on the green, cool grass. Their gazes are unblinking, unreadable, broken, and blank.

Ryou swallows.

"I want a second chance."

When he says it, he gets a sudden rush of foolishness, and he feels his face flush.

In his mind, the words sounded a _lot_ better than they did when they actually came _out_.

Who's to say that his mother can somehow get him a "second chance"?

Who's to say his mother actually _came_ for that? Maybe his mother came to finally take him to Heaven or Paradise or _whatever_ Life after Death is supposed to be.

And, in the first place, what would a "second chance" even _look_ like?

Ryou looks down, and he feels stupider than ever. He feels like should apologize, try and fix his mistake, take back what he said, but the words aren't coming and his mother probably doesn't want to hear it, anyway.

More silence.

But, Ryou thinks, but it wouldn't be fair to just let it all stop here.

To put him through all that pain and misery, to make him watch all of his mistakes, watch how everything _he_ did completely tore apart his life and loved ones…to put him through _all_ that and not give him a chance to _fix_ it.

Ryou takes a breath in, and he feels scared, suddenly. Because, Ryou knows he's teetering on the brink of Life and Death.

And whatever is going to happen all depends on his mother's answer.

Ryou looks up, and she smiles.

The boy blinks.

Her smile is small and sad. There's regret behind it.

A lot of regret.

And Ryou feels tears come to his eyes because he realizes that his mother might have made _just_ as many mistakes as himself…but she didn't _get_ any second chances.

She never got to _fix_ it all.

Ryou's bottom lips quivers and he feels kind of selfish for thinking he should be able to fix things when his own mother _didn't_.

She stands up.

Ryou looks up at her.

She smiles.

"I wish I could have gotten a second chance. To see you grow up."

Ryou bites his lower lip, and now, he's crying. The tears are pouring down his face, and he's really, really crying. And now, he's smiling, looking up at his mother. Through his tears, a grin emerges, and he's not sure _why_, expect for the fact that his mom is still smiling, and his mom doesn't seem sad at all, and so Ryou thinks he should at least _try_ and be a _little _happy.

Ryou's mother shakes her head. She takes a big breath in and lets it out. "I made mistakes, Ryou. Everyone does. But the ones I regret the most are the ones I made with you. If I could, I would do it over, and I would be _such _a better mother to you."

Ryou stands up.

His legs feel wobbly and he takes a quick breath in as he almost loses his balance, but in a few moments he's hugging his mother close, and he's burying his face into the woman's neck. "No, mom," he finally whispers out, voice thick from crying, "No. You were amazing. You taught me so much, and I admired you so much, and you were an _amazing _mother. Of course you made mistakes. Of course you weren't perfect. But that's part of life. You can't _avoid_ that. _I _can't avoid that. No one can." Ryou swallows. "_No one_ can. We just have to accept the fact we're not perfect, and move on. Try and do better. Learn."

Silence, and the wind blows past the two again.

Ryou blinks.

_Learn__._

Ryou pulls away from his mom.

She smiles at him, and she's crying.

"It was great to see you again, Ryou."

* * *

><p>There's a beeping noise, and it's annoying Ryou.<p>

He opens his eyes, and he groans, because all of a sudden every single part of him feels like it's on _fire._

As the agony floods his veins, for comfort or just as a kneejerk reaction, he brings his thin hands up quickly to his face and tries to rub his eyes so he can open them and see what is going _on._

But with the movement, only _more _pain comes, and he lets out another small cry, dropping his hands back down to his sides right away.

"R-Ryou…?"

Everything stops.

Ryou swallows.

He feels his heart pounding in his ears a million and one miles a minute, and he feels his breaths coming heavy and slow from the sudden rush of adrenaline and…

_Wait._

Breath.

Heartbeat.

Ryou's eyes fly open.

Above him is a hospital room ceiling.

He is lying in an all-white room, next to a heart monitor, dressed in a white hospital gown. His pale, stick-thin arms are riddled with needles and IVs. Yugi is sitting next to him, purple eyes wide in complete and utter shock.

Ryou is awake.

Ryou is alive.

* * *

><p><p>

"You were…you were, uh, in a coma for a few days. It's Thursday. The accident was Saturday night."

Yugi bites his lower lip, sitting next to Ryou in the same chair as he was when Ryou first awoke. His hoodie is wrapped tightly around himself, and whether that's for comfort or for warmth, Ryou doesn't know. He looks awkward.

Well, to be honest, _Ryou _would feel kind of awkward, too.

After all, he _did _just kind of miraculously wake up from a coma the doctors all thought he _wouldn't _come out of.

Ryou nods slowly at his best friend's words. Slowly, (that's what _all _his movements have been like, lately; slow. It just hurts too much, otherwise), he turns his head to face the stark-white ceiling.

He swallows.

He smiles. It's weak, almost sarcastic.

"Are you happy I came out of it?" he asks, his voice echoing in the quiet room. For a while, there's a stunned silence, and there's nothing but the incessant, steady beeping of the heart monitor.

Finally, Yugi replies,

"Of course I am, Ryou. Why would you ask me something like that?"

He almost sounds _insulted._

Ryou shrugs.

Yugi purses his lips together. "Are you…are _you _happy that you came out of it?"

Ryou turns back to him, now, and for a moment, he and Yugi just stare at each other. Ryou's face is blank, Yugi's is uncomfortable. He's a bit…_upset_ that his friend would say something like that. And rightfully so, too.

Finally, Ryou smiles. His smile is big, bright, and the truest smile he's smiled in a long, long time. Because, suddenly, it clicks with him.

It really, _really _clicks.

He's alive.

_He's _alive_._

* * *

><p>Ryou sits in the wheelchair the nurse provided with him a few minutes earlier as he stares out of the window in the hospital hallway.<p>

It's nothing special, the view. It's just the parking lot. Too many cars, too much dark, steaming, summer asphalt.

But, Ryou watches the panorama anyway.

It keeps his mind busy.

Because, if it's not kept busy, it'll drive Ryou mad.

Bakura isn't alive.

Well, he's _half _alive. _Almost _alive.

_Almost._

He's still stuck in a coma.

Ryou came out of his, and Bakura did not.

Bakura was in worse shape than Ryou when they first arrived at the hospital early Sunday morning, broken and bloody and bruised and battered. Bakura was in _such _bad shape, that the doctors don't really think he'll be waking up any time soon.

_Ever_, actually.

Ryou closes his hazel eyes tight, feeling the tears suddenly sting, and he shakes his head. No, he is not going to cry, here, now.

He's already done enough crying.

He's already done enough moping, enough closing into himself, enough misery.

He's been at the hospital all of two weeks, the doctors making him go through therapy and last-minute procedures to make sure he's fully ready to go back into the world. During that time, everyone has visited him.

Literally, _everyone_.

Yugi, Joey, Tristan, Duke, Serenity, Tea, Mai, Seto and Mokuba Kaiba.

Everybody.

They've all brought him smiles and good wishes and fun, but Ryou will have none of it.

Ever since the second day after he awoke, when he first found out about Bakura's condition, Ryou can't keep his mind off of the boy lying in room 402, half-dead.

His best friend.

The most important person to him in the Universe.

He feels guilt. (Why did _he _get to wake up and not Bakura?)

He feels worry. (What is he supposed to even do if Bakura _doesn't _wake up?)

He feels hate. (Why can't he just be grateful for _his _second chance?)

Well, Ryou knows the answer to that last question.

Because, without Bakura, his second chance isn't _worth _it.

* * *

><p>"You sure you want to do this?"<p>

Yugi looks him dead in the eyes.

Ryou quickly looks away.

He stares at the steering wheel in front of him, instead, for a long, long time, thin hands just resting in his lap, afraid to move forward.

Ryou, he looks good.

His face isn't as pale anymore; it has some life, some color to it, now. His hazel eyes aren't as dull, dead, depressed. He's sort of trying to look on the bright side. He _is _alive after being _dead_ for God knows how long, after all. He has a chance to _fix_ things, make things okay. His body's still dreadfully skinny, however, (he has a feeling that will _never _go away, no matter _how _much food the nurses or his friends attempt to stuff him with), but he's dressed nicely. Comfortably. A tight white top and skinny jeans. Perfect summertime attire.

And now, after getting changed and gathering his things and saying goodbye to a whole staff of nurses and a couple of doctors, Ryou's sitting in Yugi's car, in the driver's seat, debating on whether or not he wants to start up the engine and drive home.

Yugi bites his lower lip. "Are you sure, Ryou? I can drive. I mean, since the accident was only, like, a month ago and you might still be sort of, like, I don't know. Traumatized? I don't want you freaking out. Maybe you should just _slowly _get used to being back in a car and just hang in the passenger's seat for no—"

The ignition suddenly starts up, and the engine roars to life.

Ryou gulps.

Yugi shuts up.

Slowly, Ryou reaches up his hands and wraps them around the steering wheel. As soon as the surface touches his fingers, a rush of panic flies through him, and he clenches his eyes shut.

_Hard. _

Flashes of that night are popping up everywhere.

There's fighting and there's Bakura and there's yelling and there's booze and there's headaches and there's _sick_ and then there's blood and crashing and...

Ryou's eyes open, and he pulls out of the parking space.

_That'll be enough of _that.

* * *

><p>Ryou's standing in his front foyer.<p>

His front door is open behind him, spilling in clear, bright light into the shadowy, lonely home.

It feels like forever since he's been in his house. It feels…strange. Haunting, almost.

Ryou smiles.

He takes a deep, deep breath in, and he decides it's time to get a move on.

Time to start _fixing_ things.

* * *

><p>The first thing Ryou does is clean.<p>

Clean, clean, clean.

He dusts and polishes every surface in the house.

He does all the laundry he possibly can.

He vacuums every room in his home.

He picks up every single piece of clutter in every single room.

And finally, Ryou plops down on his couch in his perfectly clean house, and he thinks that, really, life is _so _beautiful.

* * *

><p>"You know, at first, when you wanted to go to <em>carnival<em>, I was kind of like, `What the hell?' But, this day's actually been…kinda fun."

Joey takes a bite of the pink, fluffycotton candy he holds in his hand, and he laughs, throwing his head back. "Dude, you have no idea how _long_ it's been since I've had this. It's so much…" He makes a face. "…_Sweeter_ than I remember. Almost _too _sweet."

Ryou smirks, and he reaches over, grabbing a small handful of the treat from the cottony mass. Plopping it into his mouth, he lets it dissolve into slippery, tasty sugar before licking his lips and replying, "Quit complaining and eat it, Joey."

Joey smiles, but it's sad, weak.

Ryou frowns. "What?" he asks, his tone dripping with obvious disappointment. He wanted this day with Joey to be _fun_. No sadness. No anger. No regret. Nothing. Just fun and friendship.

Joey shrugs. He begins picking at the cotton candy, again. "I dunno," he softly answers, so that Ryou almost can't hear him, "You just kinda sounded like Bakura there, is all."

There's quiet.

"I guess I kinda did, didn't I?" Ryou softly replies, finally, and quite the contrary to what Joey was thinking he'd react like, Ryou smiles, feeling a bit of happiness flutter around in his gut as memories of Bakura's sarcasm and _sort of _annoying but mostly adorable snappy comebacks float through his mind.

Oh, what he'd give to see Bakura again.

Joey smiles once he sees Ryou isn't upset or insulted or _anything_ like that. "So, uh," he starts, changing the subject, his smile growing as he watches a carnival member walk by, towering over them on a pair of stilts, "What was today _for_, Ryou? I mean, not like I _mind_, but it was just kind of odd to have you call me up out of the blue and ask to spend a day with _just _me at the carnival that's in town."

Ryou takes a deep breath in of the surprisingly cool, mid-afternoon air. "Doesn't this remind you of the summer we all hung out together?"

Joey blinks.

"Uh, well, uhm, yeah. I guess," truth be told, the older man's a bit annoyed Ryou ignored his previous question, but he doesn't want to ruin the great atmosphere so he just pushes his feelings aside and puts on a smile, instead, "Yeah, it does." Joey takes a breath in, now, and his gaze turns toward the horizon, a far off look clouding his brown eyes, "Good memories, Ry. _Great _memories, actually. Amazing ones."

He turns back to his friend, and grins, and Ryou returns the gesture.

And then, Joey stuff his hands into his green hoodie's pockets, and he exhales. "And, I guess I just missed you…"

Ryou looks Joey straight in the eyes, now, and for a while, the boys just stare at each other. Joey bites his lower lip, a bit uneasy, not sure what's running through Ryou's mind. And, in what exactly _is _running through Ryou's mind? Well, there are those memories. Those memories, those visions, of Joey huddled in his bathroom, throwing up, miserable, furious, and hungover. There are those images of Joey looking sicker than Ryou could have ever possibly imagined, standing over his and Bakura's graves. Images that will now, _never, ever_, as long as Ryou can help it, come true.

Ryou swallows.

"Yeah, I guess I just _missed_ you."

* * *

><p>Yugi smirks.<p>

He's sitting on Ryou's couch, arms folded in his lap. The windows next to him light up the condo's living room with a clear, bright glow. Everything is so peaceful, so pristine.

"So, Ryou, _what _exactly did you `need to tell me'?" he asks, his tone playful, because Ryou sounded _so_seriouson the phone he can't imagine what sort of drama Ryou's dealing with/thinking of/making things out to be, now.

Ryou bites his lower lip, messing with a piece of lint that's on his hoodie. For a while, he's just quiet, playing with the small ball of fluff, a million and one thoughts running through his head. Now, he feels almost _embarrassed _to say what he was planning on telling Yugi.

Ever since he had come back from the hospital, things had been…well, awkward between the two best friends. Yugi was _there _for Ryou, of course, but only because it was sort of his_ job_. In Yugi's head, it was just a kneejerk reaction to be there for Ryou, to help him out. But the two weren't actually _talking_. Not really. They weren't totally _friends _again.

Who could blame them, though?

They _did _have a huge fight before the accident.

Their friendship might has well have been over.

But, Ryou, he couldn't deal with that. He couldn't deal with losing his best friend of over fifteen years. So, he had called him over today, to tell him exactly that. But now, now that Yugi's sitting in front of him, and now that Ryou's _supposed _to tell him what he's been rehearsing over and over in his head, the words aren't coming.

Ryou's throat feels dry as a desert, and he feels like if he were to even _try _to speak, the words would come out all mangled and clumsy, and Ryou would just make _more _of a mess of things.

Yugi frowns as he watches the thin boy in front of him, reading the uneasiness on the boy's face right away. "Ryou?" he softly urges, and at that, Ryou looks up, and he knows he just has to _say_ it. He just has to get it over with. He looks up.

"Yugi, you're my best friend."

Silence.

"I…I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For what I said to you…" Ryou's face turns down in shame, and he swallows. "I'm so sorry."

For a while, Yugi just watches Ryou, his lips set in a line, his eyes thoughtful. Ryou feels the worry dance around in his gut; what if Yugi won't accept his apology?

And then, a huge grin overtakes the Yugi's face, and Ryou feels a wave of relief wash over him.

Yugi reaches forward, now, and he pulls his best friend into a big, big hug. "Ry, it's okay." He smiles again, softly, and Ryou swallows tears, holding Yugi tightly back. "It's okay…"

And that's the end of that.

* * *

><p>Ryou takes a sip of his steaming hot tea, and settles back into his office desk chair.<p>

In front of him is the computer screen.

_Heeey Tristan!_

_What's up, man? We haven't __hung out __in, like, _forever_. Seriously. I miss you. ;D haha__. gimmie a call and we can meet up __sometime,__ yeah__?_

_-Ry_

Ryou smiles and hits "send."

* * *

><p><p>

Duke Devlin reaches forward and messes with a strand of hair sticking up from Ryou's head.

Ryou shakes his head now, chuckling lightly and staring down at his milkshake. A silence arises, and Ryou swallows. There's nothing but the quiet chatter of the restaurant's few other customers and the _clank _and _clatter _of dishes in the kitchen being moved about.

Duke, across the table, takes a big breath in.

"You know, I'm really glad you're okay, Ryou."

His voice is soft, grateful. But, there's this hint of far-off sadness.

Ryou looks up.

The sunset outside is spilling in _gorgeous _golden-orange rays, and they're shining beautifully on everything around. Duke's handsome face is lit up, and Ryou looks right in his green eyes that are sparkling from the sun, and he sees that flutter of desperation. He sees that flutter of terror, of fear. He sees a flash of the Duke he saw in the Afterlife, the Duke that would have _lost_ it once he lost his best friends. The Duke that so _desperately _loves him and Bakura and _every _other soul that he holds dear _so _much that he wouldn't be able to function, no, _be _complete without them. He sees how unbelievably _grateful _Duke is to God or the Universe or Fate or _whoever _spared his life.

He swallows.

With that simple sentence, Ryou can see _all_ of that.

And then, Ryou speaks. He replies to Duke, and a small, small smile lights up his lips. The words slide through the older's ears, and then _Duke_ finds himself smiling, too.

"I am too, Duke. I am, too."

* * *

><p>It's right there.<p>

Right in front of him.

Room 402.

The door looks like any other hospital door. It's wood; simple wood, nothing special. Light brown. A small, rectangular window is right in the middle so that doctors and nurses and _whoever _else might want to can peek in.

To anybody else, it's nothing special.

But to Ryou?

That door means everything.

That door means everything, because it leads to Bakura's room.

Ryou hasn't seen Bakura for a month and a half.

He didn't see the boy when he was actually _in _the hospital, two floors away. He didn't see the boy before he _left _the hospital. He hasn't seen the boy in the past six weeks.

He can't.

He doesn't know why, but he just can't.

Yugi and Joey and even Duke had gone to visit him, and brought him news whenever they saw Ryou next.

It was always the same.

Bakura was never better, never worse.

Still unconscious, sitting in that bed, in that room, behind that door.

Ryou swallows.

He clenches his hands tightly, so tight, they almost turn white. He takes a deep, deep, shaky breath in, and he closes his eyes tight and _prays _that this will turn out okay. That he'll be able to do this.

And then, he walks forward, and he opens the door.

Once he does, and once he sees what's in that room, he feels his stomach lurch and his body begin to shake and his eyes burn with tears.

Bakura lies there, pale as snow and stick thin, big brown eyes closed. Ryou wonders if they'll ever open again. The room is all white - _all _white, and it makes Ryou dizzy. Makes Ryou sick. (He makes a mental note to bring in flowers later, to brighten things up.) Bakura's body is clothed in a typical hospital gown, and from what Ryou can see, it barely fits his emaciated form. His arms, both poked with IVs, are lying motionless by his sides, his chest moving up and down the _tiniest _bit with his weak, staggered breaths. The incessant beeping of the heart monitor to the right is the only noise in the room.

Ryou swallows, trying not to pass out or get sick or even _both_.

Slowly, so slowly, the boy takes one step forward, his hazel eyes never leaving Bakura's form.

The one thing repeating over and over in his head is…

_This is _your _fault._

Ryou runs forward.

He falls to the ground, and he feels the hard, white tile slam against his knees. He buries his face in the mattress, and he shakes his head over and over and over again. He laces his fingers with Bakura's cold ones, and he prays to _God _this beautiful, broken boy will wake up.

And, he sobs.

He sobs and sobs and sobs.

And while he's sobbing, he's speaking.

His words are clumsy and hard to understand through his cries, but at least he's _saying _them.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Bakura. I-I'm s-so s-sorry. Oh, G-God, 'Kura. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're my best friend. You mean everything to me. I…"

And suddenly, Ryou stops.

There's silence, again, but for the beeping of the machines.

Ryou's head is going in circles.

His heart is pounding a million miles a minute.

He looks up slowly.

His red, puffy eyes and his tear-stained gaze land on Bakura's still form.

The words are on the tip of his tongue.

He knows know that, no matter _how _much, no matter for _how _long he'd been trying to deny them, they're the truth. The absolute truth.

It's terrifying, to say the least.

Terrifying, amazing, _mind__-__blowing_.

He opens his mouth.

He finishes speaking.

"I-I _love_ you."

* * *

><p>R&amp;R =]<p> 


	13. Epilogue: Life, What Is It But A Dream?

**AN**: Final chapter! I decided to upload this early because I've quite frankly been a bit terrible with uploading when I'm meant to lately ^ ^;

But anyway, this is the last chapter of Paint The Roses Red. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers: Mystical, Mirria1, ilovemanicures, Mademoiselle Evandra, GothicAngel09, IWasTheTurkey, FormerV, anayu123, arienai, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss, seira-g, cureampuffu, BakuraXRyou FTW, AmeeraSakura, CallMeASinner, V, and whoever left that anonymous review on Chapter 10, plus anyone who faved this story and/or added it me to their author alert/story alert, but especially thanks to RiverTear960, Tender Loving Care and Shadow fairy princess, who reviewed most, if not _all_ of the chapters in this story xD And a super special thanks to mah buddy xxfangirlx who pursuaded me to post this story first =]

I'm currently working on a two-shot which should be up pretty soon, so look out for it!

Thanks again!

* * *

><p>PAINT THE ROSES RED<p>

* * *

><p><em>epilogue: life, what is it but a dream?<em>

* * *

><p>Ryou stands in an all-too-familiar cemetery, in front of an all-too familiar gravestone, under an all-too-familiar, lonely night sky.<p>

He swallows, shifting his weight and feeling the green grass crunch beneath his shoes. He takes a deep, deep breath in of the evening air, and then, he bends down, and he places the red roses at his mother's grave.

He smiles at it, memories of the woman and the times he spent with him fluttering through his mind's eye.

_Thanks, Mom._

He stuffs his hands into his hoodie's pockets, because a breeze has started up.

Maybe it was because he was curious. Maybe it was because he was doubtful. Maybe it's because he was _scared_. Whatever the reason, before Ryou came to his mom's tombstone, after the very _second _he stepped into the cemetery, he walked straight to the hill he saw silhouetted against the almost dark, post-sunset sky. The very hill that was hidden under a towering oak tree. The very hill that he and his best friends were buried under in those visions of the future.

Ryou just wanted to…well, _check_.

Check if the tombstones were there. That maybe, this second chance, this "new life" of his was just a dream, and he was really dead.

Thankfully, there were no graves.

There was just the hill, and the soft rustle of the green leaves, and the darkening night sky and rising stars above.

Ryou closes his eyes.

"Hey."

The boy's heart stops.

It seems like forever that he feels his heart still, and he thinks that if he keeps going on like this, with no heartbeat and no breath, he _might_just die again.

But, oh.

That _voice_.

Slowly, Ryou turns.

"B-Bakura?"

In the moonlight, Ryou can see the younger boy standing a few feet in front of him. He doesn't look that good; his body is still so thin, his face is still so gaunt, and his eyes are darker with a sort of dazed look to them. But, he's _alive_. And he's _here_.

And that's more than Ryou could _ever _ask for.

Bakura smiles the _tiniest_, tiniest bit.

It's a sad smile—weak.

"Yeah," he simply replies, his voice barely above a whisper, and Ryou notices just how _tired _it sounds.

_Well, can you _blame _him, Ryou? He's been in a _coma _for almost two months!_

Slowly, Bakura takes a few steps forward, walking closer to the other white-haired boy. He takes in a big breath, letting it out loudly. He swallows, turning his gaze from Ryou's, suddenly, sticking his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight.

Ryou frowns.

Why's Bakura acting like this?

So…_awkward_?

Oh, _right_.

Ryou quickly remembers all that he said to Bakura the night of the accident. He remembers all that _Bakura _must remember.

Suddenly, Ryou's face is burning with shame.

He looks down.

He swallows.

There's a long, long silence.

And then, surprisingly, Ryou hears the crunching of grass and dirt, and next thing he knows, he feels Bakura's presence right beside him.

But, he doesn't look up.

Not right away.

Bakura inhales.

"You must miss her, right?" he asks, and his voice is louder, now. Less tired, more confident. It's as if he senses Ryou's uneasiness (he _always _could), and is trying to make it seem like he's _not _exhausted or in pain or upset to make Ryou feel better. Though, to be honest, he kind of _is_ upset and tired. Just a _little_.

Ryou takes his hands out of his jacket's pockets and wraps his stick-thin arms around himself. He shivers a bit. "Yeah," he finally whispers out after a few moments of just watching his mother's still, cold gravestone. "Yeah, I do."

Ryou, he didn't expect those last few words to come out choked with tears.

He didn't expect those few little tears to start _rolling _down his cheeks faster and faster until he was _sobbing_. He didn't expect his body to start shaking, and he didn't expect his cries to get _uncontrollable._

But, it happened.

_All _of the emotions he's bottled up for the past month and a half just _explode _suddenly, and Ryou can't stop them, not matter _how _much he wants to. No matter _how _much he wishes he could because he's so embarrassed and _ashamed _to be crying like this in front of Bakura.

Bakura, meanwhile, feels his mouth drop open as he watches Ryou cry. He feels his brown eyes widen, and he can't really believe what's going on.

Ryou is _bawling_.

Ryou. The kid who'd been as cold as stone and as distant as can be for the past year and a half, choosing alcohol and partying instead, is _bawling_.

Right in front of him.

At first, Bakura doesn't know what to do.

He's still _mad _at Ryou.

He's still _hurt_.

But, he can't just let him _cry_.

And then, Bakura is holding Ryou, and his arms are wrapped tightly around the other boy, holding him close. He swallows, and he buries his face in Ryou's soft hair, and he thinks that, yeah, he's not mad at Ryou anymore.

He _can't_ be.

Ryou, meanwhile, grabs at Bakura's shirt and twists and turns it in his fingers, and he's pulling and yanking and trying to get Bakura as _close_ as he can possibly get him so that he will _never _lose him again.

The tears are rolling down his cheeks, and blurring his vision, and he's blubbering and sobbing and he _knows _he should be embarrassed, but he's not. He's not, and he just _needs _Bakura right now. Needs to hold him, to feel him, to know that he's _there_.

Bakura sighs, and it's tired. He's still in a lot of pain, and it hurts to just stand up and hold Ryou like this. But, he knows he can't, he _won't_, let him go. He hears the desperation in Ryou's cries, and he feels how Ryou's holding him, and he's not sure _why _the younger boy is so hysterical (and that worries him), but he knows that he can't leave him, let him go, now.

Bakura had been hoping for an apology, honestly; an "I'm sorry for almost killing you" or _something _along those lines. But, now, in this moment, as he watches Ryou, and as he sees how _hysterical _the boy is, he knows that Ryou's more sorry than he could _ever _put into words. And Bakura accepts that.

"I-I-I…" Ryou finally seems to find his voice, and he sniffles and tries to subdue his tears so he can speak, "I-I almost _lost _you. I almost _lost _you, and it would have been _my_ fault."

Bakura's quiet.

Ryou can't see him, because his face is buried in Bakura's chest, his tears soaking through Bakura's shirt (Bakura doesn't mind), but if we _were _to see Bakura, he'd see that the boy's face is set straight ahead, and he's not looking down at Ryou's sobbing, heartbreaking form. His brown-eyed gaze is thoughtful, far off, staring at the night sky.

Finally, he swallows heavily.

"I'm right here, Ryou," is all he says, and that's all he _needs _to say.

He's right there.

He's not gone.

He's not leaving.

Not ever.

Ryou stops crying, now.

His tears suddenly, quickly stop, and he looks up at Bakura. His hazel eyes wide, he lets out a shaking breath and just _watches _the younger, for a moment.

Because, it's clicking with him that Bakura is _right there_.

He's _right there_.

What Ryou's been _dreaming _of, _praying _for, _hoping _for for what seems like _forever_, is right there.

Ryou reaches up, and he kisses Bakura.

He doesn't care that Bakura will probably freak out. He doesn't care that Bakura will probably never want to talk to him again. He doesn't care that he's probably just completely ruined everything.

He doesn't _care_.

All he knows is that he _needs _Bakura. He _needs _to let him know how he feels, because life is _far _too fragile, and no matter _what _Bakura says, he could be gone again in a second.

So, Ryou, he's kissing his best friend.

Their lips are pressed together, and Ryou thinks it's got to be one of the most amazing, strange, _beautiful_ feelings in the entire Universe. The kiss is thick and clumsy; Ryou's upset. He messily slammed his lips to Bakura's beautiful ones, and Bakura was surprised. He staggered back a bit, and Ryou almost lost his balance.

But, of course, Bakura was there to catch him.

The younger's arms wrapped around him and they're holding him close, now, and they're both kissing each other and Bakura thinks Ryou's so broken and beautiful and Ryou thinks that Bakura's just the most perfect thing in the world, in so many ways, in _every _way.

It's so imperfect, it's perfect.

It's so ugly, it's beautiful.

It's so horrifying, it's wonderful.

Bakura pulls away, slowly.

For a while, both boys just watch each other. Brown eyes stare into brown eyes, and their gazes are unblinking, and neither one is really sure what to say, at first.

It's truly a gorgeous moment.

The night sky is big and _riddled _with stars behind them. The breeze is soft and cool against their skin. The evening is quiet; the souls of the dead around them are at peace.

Bakura blinks.

Ryou whispers,

"I love you."

Bakura whispers back,

"I've _always _loved you."

Ryou smiles, and he leans forward, and he presses his lips to Bakura's again. It's a lighter kiss, now. More graceful, gentle. Both boys know it's coming, and both boys aren't afraid of it and what it means, any longer.

After a moment they pull away.

Ryou leans his forehead against Bakura's, and he looks into Bakura's tired but big, beautiful brown eyes, and he laughs.

"I'm so glad I have you."

A big grin spreads warmly over Bakura's face.

"I'm glad, too."

And now both boys are laughing.

There's a silence.

A cricket starts chirping somewhere far off.

Bakura sighs.

"Ryou, have you ever…have you ever thought about Death?"

Ryou sighs, and he turns away from Bakura.

Bakura frowns.

"I don't mean to be dark or ruin the moment. I just…" He looks down at his feet. "…Being so close to it, I can't help but wonder what it's like. Have you ever…like, wondered what would happen if you had died? What would happen to those you love? How you'd be able to deal with things being left unsaid?"

Ryou turns to Bakura, now. He smiles, and it's a big smile. It takes over his entire face, and it lights up his eyes, and Bakura smiles back, but he is a _little _surprised at the reaction. There's almost this…_humor _behind Ryou's eyes, and the younger boy can't quite figure out why.

Finally, Ryou shakes his head.

He reaches over, and he pulls Bakura into a hug.

He hides his face in the boy's chest, still smiling, and Bakura smiles, too, wrapping his arms tightly back around the older.

"Bakura…"

Ryou looks up into Bakura's eyes, and in that moment, he knows his life will never, ever be the same again.

But, that thought is the most terrifying, frightening, intimidating, _beautiful_, _amazing _thing he could ever imagine.

Bakura's question is replaying, now, in Ryou's head. Over and over and over again.

_Have you ever thought about Death? _

Ryou smiles, again, and he finally, _finally_ answers.

"Bakura…you have _no _idea."

* * *

><p><em>END.<em>


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